The View of A Baker's Boy: Hunger Games
by BRIGHTSIDEash
Summary: The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View
1. Chapter 1

**The Hunger Games, in Peeta's Point of View. **

_None of the Characters or events are owned by me, I can only lay claim to how I imagine Peeta's thoughts and some actions may be._

Chapter One.

I awake at the same time I do every other day, already dressed and down in the bakery with my father; my mother and my brothers are still asleep, as we always let them sleep in on Reaping Day. The words echo around my head whilst I hoist a large sack of flour over my shoulder from near the door, carrying it across to the storage room. I repeat the process with the other two sacks that had been delivered; I've been lifting them nearly daily for years now and the job has become pretty easy. At first it had taken me a half hour because I often had to drag them across the room, with my brothers watching and laughing at my feeble attempts to lift the sacks. The memory causes me to chuckle, my father looking at me curiously.

I don't have to explain myself because it is then that there's a light knock on the back door, and we both knew exactly who is standing on the other side. _Gale._ I feel a small drop in the pit of my stomach, tinged with a sprinkle of jealousy. He will most likely be on his way to the forest at this time, and she shall be there waiting for him. I try to divert my attention by taking up my icing pipe, squeezing out the first colour onto the set of cupcakes. I lose myself in my decorating, and don't even notice the conversation between my father and Gale, or when he leaves. It's only after I've put everything down to admire my work that I realise I've created a dozen Katniss plants in cupcake form.

I clench my jaw and pick up all the icing tools I'd used with stiff limbs, taking them over to the wash sink and dumping them in the warm water. I start scrubbing the excesses of icing.

"Peeta... Peeta!" My father's hands close over mine, breaking me from my reverie. I blink and look at him with what I expect is quite a blank expression.

"Sorry, what? Did you say something?"

"I said calm down. You're getting water everywhere," he gives me a puzzled expression before smiling with a seemingly knowing expression. "Nice icing by the way, as usual."

It's not long before we have to wake the rest of the family, and I have to have a bath. We must always to look our best on Reaping Day, want to give the Capitol a good show. I pull on a shirt that one of my brothers had once owned and handed down when they'd outgrown it. We may not live in the Seam, but we still aren't rich.

Walking to the square feels a lot like cattle being herded to the slaughterhouse – there are no smiles or joyful expressions. Some might be grateful for the day off, but most are worried. Considering the possibility that their child, brother, sister or their own name could be plucked from one of those large bowls by Effie Trinket's perfectly manicured fingers. The same worry is flitting around my own mind, trying to imagine what might happen if my brother Gareth's name is picked out, or even mine. Everybody has to sign in when we reach the Square, so that the Peacekeepers can check anybody who doesn't turn up. All those eligible to be picked as a tribute are separated by their age groups, standing solemnly and staring at the stage in wait; all those who aren't eligible are lined up around the perimeter. It is common knowledge that those with no family members left often gamble and take bets on the tributes who might be picked.

The clock strikes two and all those small mutterings and little conversations that had been going on as we waited suddenly cease. The mayor takes his place at the podium. Once again we hear the same story that we do every year, about the beginning of Panem and the events that led up to the Hunger Games. I tune out the long speech that I had stopped listening to years ago, instead turning my thoughts to what I would ice on to the celebration cakes after the Reaping. I start concentrating again when our only living victor stumbles onto the stage with what is probably a string of profanities rolling off his tongue, although none of us can make out what he is actually saying. The whole event is being filmed for the Capitol and the mayor looks completely stricken. I fight the smile from my lips.

Trying to take control of the situation, Effie Trinket bounds up to the podium in her usual out of place happy manner. I don't pay attention to any of what she says until she's turning to the first bowl of names, where all of the eligible females have one or more slips with their name written out on it. I can't help but think of one name in that bowl, one that I have a strong feeling is in there multiple times, as Katniss Everdeen has been looking after her family for years now. Ever since her father died, she has taken head role of the Everdeen family and is well known around District 12 for her strong will, her hard headed-ness, and her refusal to show emotion to the rest of us. I pray her name isn't going to be drawn from that bowl because this year is most definitely the year I shall pluck up the courage and finally talk to her.

"Primrose Everdeen!" It's not her. It's not her. I let out a small breath of relief, but it isn't long lasted.

"Prim! Prim!" Her name is an echo across the square, and we all move aside so that she can run forward to her sister. The whole of District 12 and probably the Capitol have their eyes on Katniss as she grabs hold of her younger sister and shields her, making sure she cannot get up to the stage. "I volunteer!" She shouts, "I volunteer as tribute!" Nobody is entirely sure how to react to the outburst. My heart sinks and there's a deep drop in my stomach and catch in my throat as I realise what has just happened. I watch as she stiffly walks up to the stage to where Effie Trinket is grinning in delight, no doubt at all the excitement of this Reaping Day. Katniss' sister is screaming out for her, but Gale steps up and hoists her easily over his shoulder, reminding me of the sacks of flour I lift daily.

Effie is asking for Katniss' name and expecting applause from the crowd watching, but there is none; we all stand there unmoved. What happens next is unexpected and I don't think anybody is sure how it started, but we are all raising the middle three fingers of our left hand to our lips and holding them out the stage, to Katniss. Then Haymitch is stumbling up to Katniss and slurring his words, turning his attention either upon the crowd or the cameras that are filming the entire show, whatever effect he might have had is ruined when he falls off the stage into unconsciousness. There isn't much more time to react and collect my thoughts before those stupidly manicured fingers are plucking a second slip of paper to read out.

"Peeta Mellark." The name hangs in the air and it takes me a moment before I'm shocked into movement. That's me! My name, that was my name taken from the bowl. There's a hand on my back, subtly pushing me forward towards the stage. My limbs don't seem to want to move, but I force my legs to take a step, one after the other towards the stage. I try to drain the emotion from my face, but I'm so shocked I'm certain some of it shows on my face. At least it's only shock, and not fear. I'm on the stage beside Effie and she's asking for volunteers, but there's only silence from the crowd. I wouldn't have expected anything different; what Katniss had done for her younger sister was an extremity in our Disctrict, but is Katniss all over.

Once the mayor has finished his speech about the Treaty of Treason we are made to shake hands, and once her warm hand is enclosed in mine I can't help but squeeze it a little in what I hope conveys as reassurance. She's looking straight at me with her grey eyes that are normally closed off, but I see a flicker of emotion in them, perhaps fear or confusion. In that moment a memory flashes across my mind, of a young, sick girl crying behind a pig pen; of burnt bread being tossed through the air.

The anthem brings me back to the present and I realise I've been holding on to her hand a fraction too long, I let go suddenly as if the flesh had burnt mine own. Once the anthem is finished there are suddenly Peacekeepers surrounding us, escorting us to the Justice Building.

It is time to say our goodbyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Hunger Games, in Peeta's Point of View **

_None of the Characters or events are owned by me, I can only lay claim to how I imagine Peeta's thoughts and some actions may be._

Chapter Two

Gareth and Lukail are standing before me looking as awkward as I feel, they both have closed off expressions and seem to be racking their brains for something to say. I finally say the only thing that comes to mind.

"One of you is going to have to start getting up early again, to help dad out. He can't carry those sacks very well any more." The both of them are nodding in unison, still looking solemn.

"We will, don't worry." Gareth smiles at me gently, a little sadness in his eyes.

"You just... look after yourself out there." Lukail finishes. A lump forms in my throat but I refuse to cry, even as both my brothers step forward and embrace me in a three man hug. They must know that I'm not coming back to them, as they don't mention coming home or any such hopeful phrases. Just look after myself. It doesn't even feel like a minute has passed before the Peacekeeper is at the door and telling us our time is up. They both leave in silence and I sit down on the chair to try and compose myself, as I don't want to be seen as some snivelling weak boy who is easy pickings. My mother's the next visitor, with her hard expression and tearless eyes. There's quite an awkward moment where we stand and stare at one another, and I don't know whether I should be hugging my mother or not – I just don't have that impulse.

"Maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner." I look up in surprise at my mother, wondering if she really has that much faith in me. But of course, she doesn't, she can't have. That's when it dawns on me what my mother is saying – I'm not going to win the Hunger Games for our district, but we have a strong Tribute who might. "She's a survivor, that one." My mother finalises, as if to confirm what I am thinking. I say nothing, because what can I say? I purse my lips tightly because if I open them to say anything I will surely cry, and if there is anybody I do not want to cry in front of at that moment, it is my own mother.

My mother doesn't bother waiting for the Peacekeeper to collect her, she just says a curt goodbye and when I don't answer, turns and leaves. Alone in the room, I allow the small gasp of pain to escape my lips, tears forming at the bottom of my eyes until I shut them off, force myself to stand straight and cut off the tears. It's all ruined when my father steps in with trembling lips and shining eyes. That's the moment I lose my bravado and the tears fill my eyes. My father and I step up and embrace one another.

"You look after yourself son," he trembles, and I'm not sure how to respond.

"What am I going to do, dad?" I mumble into his shoulder, both of us pulling apart so that he can look me straight in the eyes with a serious expression.

"You do what you have to, okay?" We looked at one another with that knowing expression, our thoughts no doubt on the same matter. _Protect her if you must._

I think my father knows that I won't be able to see Katniss perish in the arena, that I shall do whatever I have to in order to keep her safe, to help her succeed. Suddenly the Peacekeeper is in the room and pulling my father away from me, he is crying that he loves me and I am just crying. For the few moments I'm left alone I wipe my eyes furiously on my brother's old shirt. There isn't much else I can do to hide the fact I've been crying.

We ride in a car to the train station, which is flocked with reporters who shove their cameras in our direction as we make our way to the train. I decide to keep my gaze away from the television screens on the walls, not wishing to see my own face. I do catch a glimpse of Katniss and her expressionless stare though, and it amuses me to see that she looks bored for the cameras. We're made to pause in the doorway of the train so that the cameras can get all the footage they need for those sitting in the Capitol. After what seems like a lifetime we are allowed into the privacy of the train, away from the prying cameras.

The speed of the train takes me by surprise and I stumble a little, grabbing hold of a nearby table to steady myself. Haymitch shows me to my room but our encounter is brief, and he mumbles that he is returning to his own chambers for a nap. The room amazes me, and there's even a bathroom I am given use of with running hot and cold water. I shed the clothes I'm wearing and step into the shower. It's like nothing I've experienced before, it feels wonderful and I stand under the hot water until there's a knock on the door of my chambers calling me for supper.

I search through the drawers that are full with fine, clean clothes. I pick out a dark blue shirt and some black trousers, making my way to the empty dining room. I sit at the table and wait for the others to join me, drumming my fingers against the wooden table. After some time the door slides open and Effie is standing there, enquiring about Haymitch's absence and I'm sure her shoulders sag in relief when I tell her he is napping.

And then Katniss is sitting at the table, her cheeks pink and skin unblemished from her recent wash. She looks even better without remnants of the forest on her skin, and her hair remains in the braid we so often see upon her head. It seems she and Effie haven't had time to settle in their seats before the food is being brought to us, and there's so much of it I can't help myself from gorging on some of the courses.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie is saying to us, continuing on about the tributes from the year before and their lack of manners. I try to remember the two tributes from last year, but only recall that they were from the Seam and hadn't lasted long in the arena. I know the comment would irritate Katniss and I hold in my laughter when she continues her meals using her fingers. When the meal is finally over I feel ill, knowing that the temptation had been too much for my stomach. The food is more rich than I amused to and it seems my system is having some trouble digesting all that I had consumed.

Effie is leading us to a different compartment, making us sit and watch the recap of all the Reapings throughout Panem. All the filming is televised to last over the entire day, so those sitting in front of the televisions in Capitol can feel as if they are watching it live. But they have absolutely no idea, they cannot claim any part of those Reapings as they have no idea to the atmosphere. Cannot ever comprehend it without being there themselves. Katniss and I sit in silence as we watch all of the Reapings in the Districts, only the first few Disctricts have people step up as volunteers and I set each face into my memory. I press my fingers to my lips when District 11 comes up, and a small twelve year old girl is called forward. Yet there is no Katniss to take her place, and the Disctrict holds silence when asked for volunteers. Then it is Disctrict 12 across the screen, a lot of excitement over Katniss volunteering, confusion as to the meaning of the crowd's silence and amusement at Haymitch's drunken actions.

Effie is moaning about Haymitch and his presentation, which causes me to laugh suddenly. I find this woman so very strange, with her concern for how everybody presents themselves for these Tributes. No concern for the lives that are going to be lost.

"He was drunk," I shrug non commitedly. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day." Katniss adds, with a small smirk twitching across her lips.

"Yes," Effie hisses, suddenly sounding angry. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!" As if on some unwritten cue, Haymitch stumbles into the compartment, slurring about supper. Suddenly he vomits upon the carpet, then slipping in the mess he's created.

"So laugh away!" Effie is shrieking as she flees the room, avoiding the pool of vomit.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Three

I can only stand there and watch as Haymitch tries to stand himself up, continuing to slip in his own vomit. Effie's words run through my head and I slowly realise what she says is true, that we don't have much chance for survival without the help of Haymitch. I glance across at Katniss who seems to have drawn the same conclusion and we exchange a gaze. I ignore the flutter of butterflies in my stomach, there are more important things to do than melt into a drizzle from one look.

We both step forward and hoist Haymitch to his feet, as a person unable to help himself seem a lot heavier than a sack of flour. Haymitch is saying something that I don't bother listening to, wiping his hand on his nose and smearing vomit across his face. It takes all my willpower to hold down the food I'd just eaten.

"Let's get you back to your room," I say through gritted teeth. "Clean you up a bit." I don't think he even hears me, he's lost in his own drunken stupor. Katniss and I mostly drag him to his own room, dumping the drunk in his shower and turning the faucet on. Water spills out and Haymitch doesn't even stir. I glance at Katniss out of the corner of my eye, and see how uncomfortable she looks.

"It's okay, I can take it from here." I reassure her, ignoring the obvious look of relief on her face.

"All right, I can send one of the Capitol people to help you." She offers, knowing she only wishes to help out any way she can, but I shake my head in refusal.

"No. I don't want them." I decide, for some reason feeling it would be some intrusion having them in here to wash Haymitch. He may be a drunken mess, but he is a drunken mess from _our_ District. Katniss nods and leaves me to the very fun task of stripping Haymitch of his clothes, which I throw into a corner to be washed. I scrub him down as best I can without getting too close, as there's only so much my stomach can handle. I leave him in his underwear as they don't seem to be affected by the upturning of his stomach, although they're now soaked through.

"Come on Haymitch, get off your ass." I groan, placing my hands under his pits and managing to half pull him up, shifting him out of the shower and backwards into the small bedroom. It takes a while but I manage to drag him across the room and pull the man on to his bed. He's mumbling something under his breath but falls into a heap on the bed and the mumbles are replaced by his snoring. Rather than tucking him in, I move his head towards the edge of the bed, making sure he doesn't start throwing up all over himself.

I feel exhausted after I leave his room, dragging my feet across the train to my own. I can't help but pause at Katniss' bedroom door, my hand reaching up to knock but stopping short. I sigh and place my hand against the door instead, whispering a goodnight to the wood before moving on. I collapse on the bed after stripping down to my underwear, not even bothering to get under the covers. Placing my hands under my head, interlocking my fingers and staring up at the ceiling.

I wonder how the celebrations are going back at home, if my family sit in with the shutters closed and watching our small television. There's a small niggling thought in the back of my mind, that my mother might have insisted they keep the bakery open, that they couldn't waste all the work that had been done that morning. I wouldn't blame her entirely as they need the bakery business to keep on going to feed the four of them. I know Katniss wouldn't have any kind of doubts like I had, her mother and Prim will be sat inside their house for definite – probably Gale, too.

My mind drifts to what lays in wait for Katniss and I, forced into the arena to fight against twenty two other tributes; some of who will have been non exclusively training for this moment in their lives. I wonder what it would be like if the unthinkable did happen – if I were to succeed in these games and find myself on the train back home.

Sleep. I need to sleep, and stop dwelling on the matters at home and what my family might or might not be doing. I punch my pillow into a more comfortable shape and close my eyes.

I must have fallen asleep because there's someone knocking on my door and a bright voice calling into my room.

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" She doesn't stay, or even come into my room but moves on. To wake Katniss up, I'm sure. I groan and pull my pillow over my head to block out the world, block out the day ahead of me. I didn't want a big, big, big day. I want a day in the bakery, helping my father with the cakes, lugging sacks of floor across the room. I roll over to stand out of bed, but I must have shifted a lot in my sleep because I roll right on to the floor. I pick myself off the ground and lazily pull on the trousers that I had worn the day before, picking the first shirt from the drawers; it is a simple white tee that I pull over my head, running my fingers through my messed up hair.

I leave and head to the dining room, where Haymitch and Effie are already sat; Effie already looks irritated and Haymitch just looks hungover.

"Ah! Good morning, boy!" Haymitch calls gruffly, his eyes struggling to focus on me across the room. Effie is sweeping her hand at me, ordering me to sit down and so I do. I think she's mostly relieved that there's someone else in the room with them. As soon as I'm sat down somebody is serving food to me and I reach instantly for the bread rolls, holding it in front of my face. It doesn't smell as fresh as the bread rolls my father makes each morning, but the smell still reminds me of home. Haymitch is saying something that Effie doesn't like, although I don't catch what it was; whatever it might have been causes Effie to mutter under her breath and I can't help feel embarrassed for her. Then Katniss is walking into the room.

I'm distracted from the bread rolls as I pause to drink her in. There's an air of tiredness hanging around her but she still manages to look graceful as she walks up to the table, ever the Hunter in all of her movements. She sits down opposite me but barely acknowledges that I'm there, as it has been for so many years since I first noticed her. I notice her looking at the drinks curiously, mainly at the mug of hot chocolate – something that was a rare luxury back home for my brothers and I. I realise that Katniss has probably never experienced this drink herself, or any of the others in the Seam.

"They call is hot chocolate," I speak up, wondering what else I can say. "It's good." I finally finish, picking up my own cup and taking a sip. I cover the smile in my mug as I subtly watch Katniss have her first taste of hot chocolate. Her eyebrows raise in surprise and she takes another mouthful, and I could have sworn that one drink cause her face to relax.

I pick at the food set out before me, not wanting to feel as ill as I had done the night before – especially as in a few hours I will be facing the whole of Capitol. As Katniss wolfs down as much of the breakfast as she can, Haymitch tops up his juice with a spirit from a bottle, and Effie picks enough of each meal as she thinks suitable, I dip some bread rolls into my hot chocolate. My father never had hot chocolate without a bread roll, and it was a trait that my brothers and I have picked up from him, it is also delicious.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss says to Haymitch as I'm draining the dreggs from my cup, I turn my gaze upon Haymitch.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." He answers with an obnoxious laugh that makes me grit my teeth, I look over at Katniss just as her gaze is turning to me and the glance is brief before we're turning back to Haymitch.

"That's very funny," I say in a level tone, trying to hold back my anger at this drunk. But I can't, as he doesn't seem to understand that in his drunken stupor he is going to get us killed; he's going to get Katniss killed. That one thought is enough to build up all my anger and suddenly I'm lashing out, smacking his glass out of his hands so that it shatters on the floor and whatever he had been drinking spills out across the floor. "Only not to us." I finish, my voice almost a hiss.

There's a small pause where the three of us are quiet, and then his fist is connecting with my face. I've never really been punched before, the most I've come to blows with someone is the brotherly tussles in the back of the bakery, occasionally a wrestle in school that is always broken up quickly. The force of Haymitch's fist causes me to fall back, so that I'm sprawled on the floor, much to my embarrassment. Something thuds onto the table and as I stand I realise that it's Katniss' knife, stopping Haymitch from reaching for another glass. Haymitch seems to be seeing us for the first time since our names were drawn as Tributes.

"Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" He asks as I'm reaching for a handful of ice, lifting it to my jaw. "No," he says, making me lower the ice from my face. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed up up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules," I frown as I consider ignoring him and cooling the mark on my jaw anyway, because it damn well hurts.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." I realise that it's a good strategy and might even cancel out the train station, and the whole of the Capitol seeing that I had been crying. As I consider this, Haymitch is asking Katniss a question about her throwing skills. We both watch attentively as Katniss picks the knife up and throws it across the room, the blade lodging in the seam between two of the panels. It's impressive.

"Stand over here. Both of you." He beckons us over and we stand there awkwardly as he circles around us, muttering to himself about the stylists.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you." He sighs, catching our attention. "You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say." This is probably the best kind of deal we can hope for from Haymitch, but it's a lot better than a few minutes ago when he was determined to carry on drinking himself into a coma. Who knows, he might even be able to pull it together enough to get us some help in the arena.

"Fine." I decide. Katniss begins asking him about in the arena, and what we're supposed to do but he cuts her off. Instead he's talking about the Stylists, and how we must do everything that they wish us to do, without any arguments.

"No buts. Don't resist." He finalises, leaving the compartment with his bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Four

The world goes dark as the train is sucked into the tunnel, which means we're running under the mountains leading to the Capitol. There are lights inside the train so that we're not enclosed in complete darkness, but both Katniss and I are silent. Just as I decide on praising her shot with the knife we feel the train slow down and there are bright lights flooding the compartment. I have to squint at the sudden brightness, but my feet seem to move of their own accord. I rush to the window to gaze out at the city I've only seen on television, that city that always looks so grand and bright. It doesn't disappoint and I'm blown into silence to admire the sight before us.

The Capitol is _beautiful_, there are colours everywhere – all of the buildings, the citizens of the Capitol, the cars they drive through the streets. Then there are people pointing up at the train, obviously recognising it as one of the trains for the Tributes. I stand there surveying all of the strange faces dressed up in all kinds of colours – some of these are probably the people we have to impress, who might be our survival in the upcoming arena. Katniss steps back with obvious distaste in her expression but I stay at the window, waving and smiling out at the people of Capitol. If we can get sponsors, she has a better chance of coming out of the arena alive. There's a large stream of people right up until we're stopping at the station, which is when I step away from the window.

Katniss is staring at me, no doubt has been watching me the entire time. "Who knows? One of them may be rich." I shrug my shoulders, knowing that she would have picked apart my meaning and I brush it aside. Best she doesn't realise my main focus in these Tribute Games will be to keep her alive, to keep her safe. Katniss doesn't feel she needs help at the best of times.

The next few moments are quite a blur as we're escorted from the train into one of the brightly coloured buildings, Katniss and I are separated into different rooms where we are meant to be meeting our stylists. Instead of one person, three people are suddenly fussing around me and I'm so overwhelmed that I don't even catch their names. They talk so fast and in strange high pitched voices, and suddenly they are unclothing me and prodding at my body. I stand in just my underwear whilst they talk around me, mentioning something about hair and body and – well, I don't actually know the full details.

"Okay, take them off." I snap my head up to try and figure out what they mean, are they talking to me? But I am only wearing my – _oh dear. _They are looking at me expectantly and I realised there is most definitely, absolutely no way of getting out of it. So I drop my underwear, my hands instantly covering my manhood from their somewhat calculating eyes.

"Alright good, we just need you to lay down on that table there and we'll get started." One of them grins at me and nods their head to the steel area that I thought was a table, but must be something I am supposed to lie on. I decide it is best if I just tune them, let them do whatever it was that they need to.

That is until they started ripping the hair off my body. I clench my jaw and attempt not to cry out in pain as they lift my arms, ripping the hair from my underarms. I sigh in relief when they lower my arms, thinking they might have finished, but they move on to my chest. Then they go lower, and I have to use all of my willpower not to cover myself when they remove the hair from _that_ area. This prep team have absolutely no sense of privacy but I remember Haymitch's words back on the train – 'No buts. Don't resist.' - so I don't resist. Once the hair is removed, they rub an odd smelling lotion over the affected skin, which burns a little. After that, they rub another lotion across my skin, and this one is soothing.

It feels like a lifetime until they finally finish and let me stand, announcing that I am ready to meet my stylist. I look at the robe that they've provided but I have a feeling that there isn't much point putting it on as this stylist will also want to prod me and poke me in all kinds of private places. I can't help wondering if the other tributes feel as uncomfortable as I do, which leads me to wonder how Katniss is doing and how much hair they might have removed from her body. But the thought of her body only makes me blush.

I'm saved from embarrassment with myself when a woman burst into the room and walks straight over to me, her eyes following every curve of my body with an appraising eye. She walks over slowly and I stare up at the ceiling to avoid the whole ordeal of having this woman criticise my body. "Lovely, just lovely." She murmurs, making me think she's enjoying this just a little too much. I cough awkwardly, so that her eyes flick up to my face and a smile brightens up her face.

"Peeta Mellark! Hello there, I'm your stylist Portia. Oh, you can put your robe on! We're all done for preparation part, just your hair and then get you in your costume."

"What... what is my costume exactly?" I frown, all kinds of rubbish and worrying ideas running through my head. Mining doesn't really leave much options for good, breathtaking ideas. Another reason past tributes didn't get many sponsors to help them out.

"Well instead of concentrating on the mining as a whole this year, we're just going to concentrate on the coal. So tell me Peeta, what's your view on fire?" She's smiling at me, in a very suspicious manner.

All I can think of is the large fire at the back of the ovens, the flames that lick at the confined space, the almost unbearable heat when we open the doors of the oven. This woman is supposed to be in charge of dressing me, so why on earth is she asking me about fire?


	5. Chapter 5

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Five

A cape of fire. That is Cinna and Portia's big master plan. They want to kill Katniss and I before we even get in to training. Portia dresses me in a full body black unitard with large ankle high boots that felt very clumpy and not practical at all, although walking in them isn't as hard as I had originally thought. She scoops something out of a jar and smears it in my hair, and I can only describe it as gloop, which is what it feels like. But she uses it to smooth and style my hair in the way she feels looks best. To finish, a small black headdress to sit upon my glooped up hair. Apparently she and Cinna were planning to set the artificial fire when we are in the carriages.

Portia and the team are chatting excitedly as we make out way to meet up with Katniss and Cinna, and I see Katniss is in a very similar outfit to mine, except more feminine. Her eyes run quickly over me – or perhaps just my outfit, I'm not sure. But that single look pleases me just a little. The dark skinned Cinna is a lot calmer than the rest of the Capitol people surrounding us, and I wish I had dealt with him rather than the chatty woman at my side. Portia is shooing me forward towards our chariot, and Cinna is leading Katniss forward so that we're standing side by side in the vehicle, but the stylists still mess around with how we stand, and how our capes are draped around and behind our bodies.

The capes are a little too close for comfort, no matter how much Portia has tried to assure me that the fire won't actually harm our skin and we probably won't be able to feel it. _Probably._ Her high pitched voice and strange octaves are not much comfort and I'm wondering at the best way to pull the cape off quickly.

"What do you think? About the fire?" Katniss whispers to me, my eyes flicking to my side where she stands. They haven't caked her face in make up, which I find myself grateful for because she still looks like Katniss – beautiful.

"I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine." I reply, through gritted teeth so that our stylists cannot hear us.

"Deal." She says, causing a smile to flicker across my lips, but it is brief. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle."

"Where is Haymitch, anyway?" I ask, noticing his absent properly. "Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?"

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame." She says, and the comment is so jokey, so out of place considering the situation that we're in that I can't help but laugh. And Katniss is laughing with me, and despite the fact our laughter may be tinged with nerves it's such a nice moment that I'm determined to store it in my memory. Especially Katniss' laughing face, the smile tinged on her lips that brightens up her face in such a flattering manner.

The small moment of joy is cut off by the opening music, so loud from being blasted all around the Capitol that it would be impossible not to hear it. We just have to endure twenty minutes in the eyes of the Capitol before we're shut off in the Training Centre, but we have to make an impression in those twenty minutes. It's probably our biggest chance to impress the rich of the city; those who might sponsor us in the arena.

I barely concentrate on the other Tributes but there's a lot of cheering from the crowd, especially for the first District, who are no doubt sparkling in all kinds of jewels. Then Cinna is stepping up to us and I realise District 11 are just setting off, my whole body tenses as I see the torch in the corner of my eye, then he is setting our capes on fire. Katniss lets out a quiet gasp and I'm bracing myself to rip the cape from Katniss' back. Yet there's no searing heat, my arms aren't burning and my hair isn't being singed; just a small tickle.

Cinna's sighing in relief and allowing himself to smile. "It works." He says gladly, and I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that he had doubted this fact beforehand. He places a hand under Katniss' chin and lifts her face up a little, and I can't help the little tremor of jealousy that runs through me. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" I think that the last part is more for Katniss than myself, and I realise how bitter I sound in my own head. What on earth is wrong with me?

Cinna jumps down from the chariot but seems to backtrack before he leaves, shouting something up to us beneath the music, making hand gestures. What does he mean? Then I realise he's pointing to our hands, but does he mean what I think he does? And then Katniss is asking and looking at me, her eyes lingering on my face a moment more than usual. It's that moment when I look at her, the fake flames lighting up her face and making her more beautiful than she had been before. Katniss, the girl on fire.

"I think he wants us to hold hands." I tell her, although I'm not entirely sure that is what he wants – but it's most definitely what I want, so I take her hand in mine and we're both looking at Cinna. He nods his head enthusiastically and gives us a thumbs up, but then we're moving forward into the city.

People are alarmed initially, until they realise that the fire is a part of our show, and then they go wild, chanting our District and I'm suddenly very much aware of all eyes upon the chariot of District 12. Katniss' grip on my hand tightens a little but I don't mind, because I feel like I might start crushing her hand in order to steady myself. There are television screens all over so that I can't help seeing how we look to everyone else in Capitol; the flames illuminate our faces in an almost haunting way and it's almost as if there's a trail of fire behind us. I have to admit that we are attractive, more attractive than either of us have ever been – yet we still look somewhat like ourselves. I can't take my eyes off Katniss on the screens, though.

I realise that I have a straight face and force myself to put on my most dazzling smile, just as Katniss does the same. We raise our heads and smile at the crowd, waving in all directions; and they seem to love us. It's really quite overwhelming, all of the smiles and cheers, we're showered with colourful flowers and I realise that they're not cheering our District but our first names. It's exhilarating and I can't help that forced smile turning into a genuine grin, waving enthusiastically with my free hand as I hold on to Katniss with my other.

As we're in the City Circle I notice Katniss looking down a little and feel her start to let go of my hand, making me panic some; her hand seems to be the only thing keeping me grounded and straight. "No, don't let go of me." I say, turning my gaze on her grey eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing."

"Okay," she agrees, much to my relief. The chariots are coming to their stop in the circle and the music is ending, as President Snow gives us the traditional welcome for the Hunger Games – it doesn't last long and the chariot is moving again.

We're finally in the Training Centre, but there isn't much time to relax as the Prep teams are instantly upon us.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Hunger Games, in Peeta's Point of View.**

_None of the Characters or events are owned by me, I can only lay claim to how I imagine Peeta's thoughts and some actions maybe._

_I'd also like to quickly thank you all for favourite-ing, or putting a story alert on this story - extra special thank you to those who put me as their favorite author! It's been pointed out that in recent stories there have been some spelling mistakes, or words missing out that cause sentences to not make sense - apologies! There's something wrong with the program I use to write, and it's been cutting out words. Also when it auto-corrects, don't think those corrections make their way on here. Not to worry! I have a Beta Reader now, so hopefully that will get better, and I'll start proof reading them when I upload them here. Also, most of these are written at 3am! But anyway, thank you and glad you're enjoying!_

**Chapter Six.**

We're not getting very friendly looks from the rest of the Tributes but I don't seem to care at all, Katniss is still holding on to my hand despite we're not in view of the cameras. Katniss is still holding on to my hand when Cinna and Portia are helping the pair of us down from the chariot, spraying us from a canister to put out the flames. It's only then that Katniss seems to remember her hand is still intertwined with mine and she unfurls her fingers stiffly; I realize just how tightly we had been holding on to one another and have to massage the pins and needles out of my hand.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me," I sigh quietly, so that only Katniss can hear me. "I was getting a little shaky out there." I admit to her, causing her to look at me. When her eyes meet mine I get the usual tingling sensations and fluttering in my stomach – the same sensations I'd been getting ever since we were kids and her eyes would meet mine for brief moments in school. Of course I was always too shy to hold her gaze and would often quickly look away, pretending I wasn't turning bright red and feeling strangely _tingly_ at the thought of her looking at me. This time, I hold her gaze for as long as she does.

"It didn't show; I'm sure no one noticed."

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you," I chuckle. "You should wear flames more often. They suit you." I smile at her with all of my sincerity, covering my embarrassment at finally getting a small fraction of what I wanted to tell her out. Preferably it would have come out something more like; you are absolutely perfect in almost every way and you look beautiful even when there's dirt smeared over your face.

And then the most unexpected thing happens – Katniss reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses me on my cheek where Haymitch's fist bruised the skin. I can only stare after her dumbly as she turns and leaves, my mind in a complete jumble and the largest eruption of butterflies in my stomach.

I'm stuck in the crystal elevator with Effie and Katniss, but neither of them seemed too bothered at my presence so instead I just concentrate on the people below us in the building. I watch as they get smaller and smaller, until they are just dark dots against the white floors. Effie is rambling on in her usual manner and I hope Katniss is listening to her, I sure as hell am not. _She kissed me. She actually kissed me_. It's the only thought running through my head up to the twelfth floor. Another stranger is showing me to my quarters and I spend twenty minutes in the shower fully clothed, checking out all of the buttons on the panel. Do people actually know what all of these do?

I strip off the unitard that was suddenly constricting me and step into the shower. I decide to test out every single button on that shower panel; perhaps it was in the hope that I could forget about that small kiss on the cheek that still tingled.

I spend a long time in the shower with all the buttons, some of them make the water scolding hot, others make it freezing; there are buttons that change the intensity of the water flow or make the water come out in spurts rather than a flow. There are even buttons that make the water come out of small holes in the walls that I hadn't noticed when I first stepped in to investigate. When I step out, my body is cleaner than it ever had been before. I don't even have to dry myself off, the mat I step out on to blow dries my body for me, and there's a box where I place my hand that will dry and untangle my hair using some kind of current.

I move on to investigate my room, not bothering to dress myself. I wander to the wardrobe and realized that I can actually program it to lay out an outfit that I like. Across the room is a small mouthpiece and a menu, I just have to speak into and it will cook and deliver the food I choose in under a minute. All that I can conclude from the experience is that the Capitol is lazy.

There's plenty of time before we're to meet for dinner so I decide to go for a wander, pulling on a shirt and some jeans before leaving my room. I find myself in the dining room, at first don't think there's anybody in the room so I am about to leave. "Hello, Peeta!" I startle at the voice, turning to where Cinna is standing at some balcony doors that I hadn't seen before.

"Oh Cinna, how are you doing?" He smiles and nods his head.

"Quite well. You did great at the opening ceremonies today."

"With a lot of help from you," I laugh, meriting a laugh in return. We stand there in silence for a few moments unsure what to say to one another.

"Have you seen the roof yet? You get the best view of the City up there."

"No I haven't, care to show me?" At least it's something to do. Cinna leads me down the hall and through one of the doors, which opens up to a stairwell. We step out onto the roof, where the wind howls all around us and it's near deafening. Cinna was right when he mentioned the best view of the City; I don't think there's any area that isn't lit up. I wander over to the small railing and look out over the large City; I think of District 12. Our District was probably half the size of the Capitol, maybe smaller. We often didn't have any electricity and rely on candles to light the rooms. Many nights my father and I would sit by the open oven to keep warm, so that we could see one another. I'd probably never have a night like that again; probably never see my father's kind, loving face again.

"Why do they let us up here? What if a Tribute jumps off?" I ask Cinna, who's at my side. He smiles a little and shakes his head.

"Because you can't jump off it," he tells me, holding out a head into the air. I jump a little at the zap sound, then his hand is jerked back; some kind of force field.

"Oh, I see." I say.

"So I'm afraid you're going to have to stick it out, baker's boy." He says with a smile, sounding amused.

"What? Oh no, I wasn't planning on jumping. I just- well, I just wondering if you knew why." I started stammering like an idiot, even though I hadn't thought of jumping myself – had I?

"Of course, because who would look after Katniss?" I snap my gaze to him, the shock probably quite evident on my face. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I shake my head and open and close my mouth, trying to think of something to say. Cinna only laughs. "Don't worry yourself; the girl is too hard headed to notice it herself. Imagine if the audience found out before you went in the arena, though. Two lovers forced into to Arena against one another, only one person able to make it out." There's some kind of twinkle in his eye as he winks at me.

"It won't be me coming out of that Arena, though." Realization seems to dawn on his face as his expression softens and a genuine smile crawls over his face.

"You plan to protect her in there? The Capitol will absolutely love that." He nods his head, as an idea seems to be forming. It makes me angry for some reason.

"This isn't about the Capitol," I suddenly snap, his attention returning to me. "This is about Katniss' life."

"Oh, but this is about the Capitol Peeta! Without them, she will certainly die. The best way to protect Katniss is to get sponsors, as you will both undoubtedly need some supplies when you're in that arena. They need to love you." He's walking towards the door now, gesturing for me to follow him. "Come on, dinner is probably almost ready."

We make our way to the Dining Room and it's only Portia in the room, leaning against the railing of the balcony. Cinna and I both wander over to join her and I lean against the railing, looking out at the City ablaze with light.

"It's a great view, don't you agree?" Portia asks me, but continues on before I can answer. "You can get an even better view if you go upstairs to the roof."

I don't even notice when Katniss enters the room as I'm too busy admiring the colors of the city's building, and thinking on what Cinna had said. I only come out of the daydream when I'm being offered a glass of wine, which I decide to take. After one sip I decide I don't like the taste, so I set the glass aside.

We all sit around the table, just as I'm beginning to wonder where Haymitch is; he stumbles into the room and takes his own seat, grinning only when he is offered his own glass of wine. There's a lot of small talk and cheerful praise for Cinna and Portia on their good job with our outfits. I'm not really in much of a mood for talking so I allow them all to continue, speaking only when someone says something directly to me, which isn't often. I perk up when a cake is laid out on the table, the icing blazing with small flames. This was something my father and I had occasionally experimented with; drizzling alcohol on the top of cakes and setting them alight. It was always a great effect.

"...oh! I know you!" I look up to see Katniss is talking to the red headed girl who served us, how could she possibly know someone from the Capitol? The girl looks terrified and shakes her head with enthusiasm before practically fleeing from the room, causing Katniss to turn her attention back to the table with confusion.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie snaps and looks a little angry. "The very thought." She gasps, with a shake of her head.

"What's an Avox?" Katniss asks everyone around the table.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak." Haymitch cuts in. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her." But my mind is reeling, caught on the fact that these Avox people have had their tongues cut out; their voices taken from them.

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order. Of course you don't really know her." Effie says, with disapproval dripping form her tone – which means we really better not speak to the traitors otherwise there will be repercussions.

I watch Katniss and see that something clicks in her expression, as if she's realized where she knows the Avox girl from, but the memory is not a pleasant one. "No, I guess not, I just-" She begins to stammer and I realize that she's probably never had a drop of alcohol in her life and the fact she's nearly finished her glass must be affecting her somewhat. The mood is so uncomfortable so I decide I have to help her out. I think of the girls back in our school; the first girl comes to mind is Delly, a girl who'd been a friend of mine throughout the school years.

I snap my fingers to draw the attention from Katniss. "Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly Cartwright." She isn't – far from it. Delly and the read headed Avox are more like complete opposites, and this thought must be running through Katniss' mind at the initial confusion I see in her expression; I must be the only one who does see it as she turns it off immediately.

"Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair." She says, somewhat relieved.

"Something about the eyes, too." I reply casually, but I'm thinking of grey eyes that don't meet me across the table.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Hunger Games, in Peeta's Point of View. -**_None of the Characters or events are owned by me, I can only lay claim to how I imagine Peeta's thoughts and some actions may be._

_I seriously love all of you who are reading this! Even if I don't get that many reviews, all the alerts etc make me feel loved. Thank you! _

Chapter Seven

We move to a sitting room where we watch the replays of the opening ceremonies, and then Haymitch is telling Katniss and I to meet him for breakfast in the morning so we can start our first day of training. He dismisses us. I realize this is my chance to talk to Katniss about the Avox girl. She walks with me down the hall and we stop at her bedroom door, where I lean against the door frame to make it clear I wish to talk.

"So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." I say as casually as I can, fairly certain I sound like an idiot. Katniss hesitates whilst avoiding my gaze; she hesitates for so long that I can almost see the thoughts running through her head – I'm sure she's deciding whether she can trust me with whatever information is stored in her head. It almost hurts me to know she thinks I'm going to turn on her and possibly share the information with someone else, but I know this is just how Katniss is. I decide to cut in before she can decide against trusting me.

"Have you been on the roof yet?" She shakes her head, "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though." I'm sure Katniss is smart enough to get my meaning – nobody would be able to hear over that wind, if there were cameras up there watching us.

"Can we just go up?" She asks, which a reasonably good question is – you'd think the Capitol would have a lot of rules and regulations over where their Tributes would be allowed to venture. They wouldn't want us disappearing or dying before we even got in the arena, after all.

"Sure, come on." I say, setting off down the hall and feeling a little relieved when Katniss instantly follows me up the stairs to the rooftop. As we step out, I get a little satisfaction out of the wonder in Katniss' expression at the sight before her; that I had been the one to show her this. I can't help but watch her for a moment whilst she's distracted, to just admire her. She breaks out of her admiration and snap my gaze away, not wanting her to catch me gazing at her again. We both wander over to the railing to look out on the City that's still alive, whereas we'd probably be heading to bed back home.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the ledge?" I tell her, noticing Katniss glance at me quickly.

"What'd he say?"

"You can't," I repeat Cinna's reply, and just like he did; I held my hand out into the air. A sharp current shoots my hand and I automatically snap my hand back, away from the pain. "Some kind of electrical field throws you back on the roof." I tell her, wondering at how much pain that would cause to somebody – although I'm sure no matter how much it was they'd still force the Tribute into the Arena.

"Always worried about our safety." Katniss says sarcastically, making me smile a little.

"Do you think they're watching us now?" She asks me, I can't help but glance around subtly to try and figure out where they might have cameras trained upon us.

"Maybe," I admit before thinking of the small garden I'd seen on my way out with Cinna. "Come see the garden."

It's a small garden with some flower beds and potted trees; there are hundreds of wind chimes hanging from those trees that are making a constant tinkling sound due to the wind – so much that there wouldn't be a chance of any camera picking up what we are saying. I watch Katniss and wait for her to decide when she's ready to talk.

"We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game." She whispers to me and I have to move in a little closer, pretending to examine some of the flowers.

"You and your father?" I whisper back, knowing that this must be a quiet conversation.

"No, my friend Gale." _Of course, always with Gale_, I think to myself rather bitterly, but tuning back in to what Katniss is saying. "Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it." She falls silent for a while and I ponder on what she told me, thinking of a time when I noticed the birds stopped singing one time; except one, I had thought. But it hadn't been a bird singing, it had been a very beautiful, very wonderful young girl. Then I try to imagine Katniss and Gale in the woods, hiding from this fleeing pair – but I can't. That is a side of Katniss that I do not know. I have no idea of the Hunter in Katniss, except for what I see in her in our everyday life.

"The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere," she suddenly continues. "I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast, like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

"Did they see you?" I ask her.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock." She says, her eyes staring ahead of her; she's completely lost in the memory of this Avox girl and their brief encounter. I can't be sure, but I think I see guilt in her expression – perhaps that she didn't save the girl from her fate and the hovercraft. I suddenly want to take her in my arms and comfort her, I want to hold her and keep those bad memories at bay; but I also know that she wouldn't let me. She would push me away, step out of my reach, and look at me with uncomprehending grey eyes because she has no idea what kind of effect she has on me.

"You're shivering," I suddenly notice, pulling my jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders; at first I think she isn't going to let me and my heart sinks a little, but she seems to give in and accepts my jacket.

"They were from here?" I ask, returning her attention back to the story she was telling me as my fingers fumble a little at the top button of the jacket, fastening it to a close. She only nods in answer and I take a step back, not wanting to invade her space too much.

"Where do you suppose they were going?" I wonder at this; a boy and a girl fleeing from the Capitol and ending up on the outskirts of District 12. Something bad had to have happened to make them run that far and fast. But where could they have expected to have gone past Disctrict 12? District 13 had been destroyed, as the Capitol liked to remind us on a regular basis, and there wasn't really much to see beyond Panem.

"I don't know that. And I don't know why they would leave here." I think about that – about living in the Capitol, but I can only think about how we are here for their entertainment.

"I'd leave here." I suddenly say, forgetting to whisper. I glance about nervously, thinking of spying cameras and microphones that might have picked up on my outburst. I try to laugh, rather nervously. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime." And now I'm just a home sick boy who's afraid to be called out as a Tribute. "It's getting chilly. We better go in," I finally say, feeling the cold now that I've given my jacket over to Katniss. "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I ask her casually, but of course I already know who Gale is.

"Yes. Do you know him?" She asks me.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other." I tell her, which is true. The girls around school are very fond of the tall, dark haired Hunter and how supposedly handsome he is.

"No, we're not related." She tells me.

I nod my head and avoid her gaze. "Did he come to say goodbye to you?" I'm not entirely sure why I'm asking her, and I can see her looking at me curiously.

"Yes. So did you father. He brought me cookies." This surprises me a little, as he hadn't mentioned that he was going to see Katniss, and I wonder at his motives. Although he had always been fond of the Everdeens, of course he would try to look after the children of the woman he once loved so dearly. "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys," I admit to her.

Katniss looks somewhat startled at this – perhaps the idea that my father and I might have talked about her and her sister at some point; I feel like I should explain to her.

"He knew your mother when they were kids."

"Oh, yes. She grew up in town." Katniss says, which probably meant her mother hadn't really talked much about her life before the Seam, obviously not about my father. I realized that we're at the door to Katniss' room, and she hands me my jacket back. "See you in the morning then."

"See you." I reply, before turning and walking off to my own room, wondering if Gale would have kissed her goodnight.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View.**

_My Beta Reader hasn't read through this or the next one, oops. But I did proof read it myself, so hopefully it shall do. Also, as a christmas present, I'll be posting Chapter 9 in a half hour._

Chapter Eight.

I return to my room, pulling on a loose shirt and some shorts before falling into the bed, pulling the covers over my head to shut out the world. I fall into a fitful sleep, starting awake many times throughout the night often covered in sweat. Eventually I sleep for more than a few hours at a time and it is morning when I next open my eyes.

I decide to get in the shower first, as I'm sure I smell from the sweat covered night; luckily I'm quite a master at working the shower and know the right buttons to press, so it doesn't take long to get washed and get out. Whilst I had been in the shower somebody had laid out an outfit for me. It's quite comforting to see that it looks a lot like something I might have worn at home. Black trousers that seem a little too tight for my liking, but I figure I don't have much choice in the matter; the long sleeved tunic and leather shoes are fine by my tastes, though. Nice and simple.

I'm surprised nobody has come to call me for breakfast, but figure since Haymitch had set it up it wouldn't have been an early meal, and he'll probably amble in after Katniss and I have already eaten. Much to my surprise, Haymitch is walking down the hallway as I leave my room.

"Ah Peeta, just in time. Good morning."

"Good morning, Haymitch." We walk in silence to the dining room, where Katniss is already sitting at the table with her breakfast. Haymitch and I greet her in unison. I notice that her outfit is the same as mine, which means our stylists are still going for the joined team idea. I have to suppress my smile to see that she's dipping her rolls in a mug of hot chocolate, which she must have seen me do on the train. I doubt it was something her mother had taught her to do, since she didn't even know what hot chocolate was before I told her.

We sit in silence for a long while. Nothing is said until Haymitch decides he's eaten enough, then taking a long draw on his flask. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." He says, leaning back in his chair to observe us.

"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss instantly asks, which perks me up a little for an unknown reason.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," Haymitch offers, causing Katniss and I to look at one another briefly. "I don't have any secret skills," I shrug. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." I say casually, almost getting flustered.

"You can coach us together," Katniss decides and I nod my head in agreement.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do."

"I can't do anything," I instantly offer, then adding, "unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't. Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife." Haymitch says, acknowledging her across the table.

"Not really. But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow." She admits.

"And you're good?"

"I'm all right," she finally answers. I roll my eyes, but nobody sees me.

"She's excellent," I add in. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." I tell Haymitch, and Katniss looks at me with surprise. Suddenly, she's narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"What are you doing?" I look at her in shock, wondering what she could mean.

"What are you doing?" I repeat, "if he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself."

"What about you?" She snaps, taking me by surprise. "I've seen you in the market. You can lift fifty-kilo bags of flour. Tell him that. That's not nothing." for some reason this irks me, and I think of just how different these realisations are. She can shoot a bow and arrow; I can lift a bag of flour. Although I think of how she had said about seeing me in the market, and wonder at how she had seen me – had she been watching me or had I just happened to fall in to her line of gaze?

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't."

"He can wrestle. He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I shake my head, annoyed that all the skills she had pointed out to Haymitch would be of no help to me in a few days when I'm pitted against all of the other Tributes.

"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" Katniss' voice is starting to rise as her anger builds up, and I can feel my own rising to the surface.

"But you won't be! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows." I shoot back, suddenly so annoyed at her attitude. "You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me up? She says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. I realised, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" I burst out the last part, almost instantly regretting the words.

"Oh, she means you," Katniss says, waving her hand as if to dismiss the thought.

"She said, 'She's a survivor that one.' _She_ is." I tell her calmly, and she stops suddenly, staring across the table at me.

"But only because someone helped me." She says rather quietly. My eyes fall down to the bread roll still in her hands, knowing that we are both thinking of the same thing. I shrug my shoulders, as if it were nothing. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you." She replies to me. I roll my eyes, turning my head towards Haymitch who seems to be following the conversation back and forth. I think I imagine the amusement in his expression.

"She has no idea. The effect she can have." I say, turning my attention to the wood grain of the table and following one of the patterns with my finger. Katniss doesn't reply. I'm too embarrassed to look up at her to see her reaction. I have no doubts that she misinterpreted my meaning, though.

"Well, then. Well, well, well." Haymitch breaks the silence. "Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamekeepers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares," she mutters. I take the chance to glance up at her, but she just seems to be glaring at the bread roll in her hands.

"That may be significant in terms of food. And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Centre, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

We both nod, and I start to wonder if Haymitch had been as drunk as we thought he had all these years, or perhaps this was just information and advice he was remembering from when he was a tribute.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute." In my current anger with Katniss I start to object with Haymitch, as does Katniss; although on second thought I think that more time with Katniss might not be such a bad thing. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

We both get up and leave. Katniss storms off ahead of me and I hear the purposeful slam of her bedroom door, causing me to roll my eyes as I close my own quietly.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Nine

I lie on my bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling of my room. A part of me is angry at the strange argument between Katniss and I, but the rest of me dwells on how much she seems to have noticed about me through the years. I always thought the girl on fire had forgotten my existence ever since I threw her the burnt bread, despite all those times she had caught me glancing at her in the halls of school. Each time I had been watching her, trying to build up the courage to talk to her and just say hello. It wasn't that hard to start a conversation, so why could I never do it?

I realise with all my pondering the time has passed by quicker than I imagined, I have to get up to meet Effie and Katniss; it is almost time for our official training to begin. The thought makes me feel a little nervous in all honesty. All the tributes will be together and our training shall be televised. We hadn't actually met the other tributes yet, only seen them in passing as they glared at us.

Effie is already at the elevator and it isn't long before Katniss joins us. She seems to be biting her nails but stops when she's aware of the fact. None of us say anything during the elevator ride down to the training rooms, but the ride only lasts a minute anyway. The doors open and the large room is full of obstacle courses and various weapons. The rest of the tributes are already there, even though I thought we were early.

The first thing I notice is that Katniss and I are the only ones dressed alike, which means it's definitely one of Cinna's ideas – to give some kind of an impression that we're part of a team. Although I'm unsure what kind of use this might be when it actually comes to the arena, when we're expected to kill one another. In my head I decide I refuse to let that happen; Katniss and I will not kill each other, not if I can help it. The second thing I notice is that they all have a piece of cloth with their Disctrict number pinned to their shirts, which is what somebody does to us as we step inside.

We're made to sit a while as a woman explains to us about the different stations that are available to us and that we're allowed to move freely between the stations. where there will be experts on each subject. Finally, the woman lets us go and those Tributes that we refer to as The Careers rush to the deadliest weapons in the room, as expected. Katniss is watching them and I nudge her arm to pull her out of whatever thoughts might be running through her head; she jumps a little at my touch.

"Where would you like to start?" I ask quietly. She looks around, most likely analysing what it is the other Tributes are doing before turning back in my direction.

"Suppose we tie some knots."

"Right you are," I nod, following Katniss over to the knot-tying class. The trainer looks quite pleased at having some students, as I guess it's a station not many tributes go to. Suddenly Katniss and the trainer are talking about something called a snare. After a lot of paying attention, I realise it's a trap that Hunter's use to catch their prey. Katniss knows a few things about them so the trainer takes delight in teaching her one that shall leave her prey dangling from a tree; in this case, one of the other tributes. It takes a lot longer for me to get a hang of the snare, but eventually I do. It takes an hour to master the skill, and when we are done we move on to camouflage.

We're provided with the kinds of stuff we might find in the arena – mud, clay, berries, leaves and vines. I enjoy mixing the mud and berries and smearing them across my skin in particular patterns to create disguises that I might need – it all reminds me of painting, something that I didn't do very often back home. Most of my time was spent in the bakery and paints and canvases were expensive, so I create my art on the cakes instead.

The camouflage trainer seems pretty enthusiastic as I work with the mud, but I notice Katniss' attention is elsewhere. She's distracted as she swirls the mud and berries together in a pot.

"I do the cakes," I speak up, not entirely sure why; possibly so that I can have her attention.

"The cakes?" She asks, barely turning her head in my direction as she's watching a boy from District 2 throw a spear. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery." She takes a moment to digest the information I gave her and finally her attention is on me, her eyes on the design I had just painted onto my arm.

"It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death," she says sarcastically. I clench my jaw a little as I refrain from rolling my eyes.

"Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-" I begin to say, trying not to dwell on how stupid I sounded.

"Say we move on." She cuts in, not allowing me to finish. I sit back and nod my head silently, glaring down at my painted arm.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_Thank you guys for all the love._

Chapter Ten

The next couple days pass by rather uneventful. We go to our training each day as instructed, making our way through the different training areas, avoiding the weightlifting and archery in front of everyone else. We're made to have our lunch with all of the other tributes and it's always the same; the Careers sit around the same table being loud, Katniss and I sit and eat together as we try and make conversation, the rest of the tributes sit and eat alone.

It's difficult making conversation each day with Katniss, as there aren't many topics for us to touch on that won't remind us of home, or the arena we're soon to be thrown into. Yet we have to do the best we can, as Haymitch is constantly on our case; telling us that we must keep up appearances for the cameras. There also seems to be a rather unpleasant chill between us, since she slammed the door on me the other night after our strange argument.

There's one day that I get so desperate for conversation, I empty out the bread basket and start to tell Katniss about the different bread rolls. All the while I sit there thinking to myself in astonishment, _I'm talking about bread. Bread._ Yet Katniss seems to be listening to me and observing the rolls as I explain them. "And there you have it." I finish, scooping the rolls back up.

"You certainly know a lot," She says, and I'm not sure if there's an admiration to her tone or if that's just my wishful thinking.

"Only about bread." I shrug it off, then remembering that we're supposed to be seen as a happy team. "Okay, now laugh as if I've said something funny." And she does, so I pretend to laugh with her. "All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk."

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by a bear?" She asks me.

"No, but it sounds fascinating," I say, and it does. There I was talking about bread, and Katniss has stories about bears. She recalls the story to me. I have to admit it's quite an amusing story, and my questions and laughs aren't even pretend.

The next day whilst we are throwing spears I notice the young girl watching us from across the room a little; I had noticed her a few times the past days. Throwing glances at us, hovering around the areas that we decide to train in. "I think we have a shadow," I whisper to Katniss just before she throws her spear.

I throw my own spear as I try to recall the names of the Tributes, and I remember the girl's name because she had stood out; being the only twelve year old Tribute this year. "I think her name's Rue," I say softly, so that nobody else around us can hear.

"What can we do about it?" She snaps at me. I can't help but sigh quietly to myself; why must everything I say be an attack on her?

"Nothing to do. Just making conversation." I carry on with the training in mostly silence, only speaking here and there for the cameras. Rue is an almost constant shadow, following us to each station.

After dinner that night as Katniss and I walk to our rooms, I can't help but comment on Haymitch's sudden determined manner. "Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink." Katniss lets out what I think is a kind of laugh, which makes me, feel better. Until her expression falls and she gives a subtle shake of her head at me.

"Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around." She says, and I feel my body sag a little. Of course it's all pretend; Katniss probably has no idea that I genuinely just wish to talk to her sometimes, that I do enjoy her company a lot of the time. I take a last glance at her, and wonder if it could ever have been different back home. If perhaps we might have had a chance if I could have just built up the courage to speak to her.

"All right, Katniss." I sigh, suddenly feeling tired with all of this; tired of trying to figure out just what Katniss might be thinking, or if the rare smile she flashes at me is forced. I'm suddenly just tired.

On the third day during lunch we sit and wait to be called for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. The forced pleasantries between Katniss and I relax as each person is called out and don't return, until it's just the two of us. After what feels like a lifetime my name is called and I rise stiffly.

"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights," Katniss suddenly says, throwing me off course.

"Thanks. I will. You... shoot straight." I reply lamely, but she nods.

I walk into the gymnasium, but only a few of the Gamemakers are actually concentrating. They've been drinking and eating. They've sat through twenty two other sessions and have probably had wine delivered to them glass after glass. This wasn't going to go well, it didn't really matter how heavy the objects I threw around were because their food and drink were far more interesting than I could be.

I don't start off well; as I feel quite dejected at how little the Gamemakers are paying attention. I start throwing some of the heavy balls around; they're made of lead or something of the sort. The first few only land a meter or perhaps a little more. One of them mostly just rolls out of my hands; I have to jump back a little to avoid a nasty foot injury. Luckily, none of the Gamemakers are paying much attention to me at that point, although one or two seem to look across just at the wrong time.

I need to get my head in the game, so start picking up the objects like I know I can; I can pick up fifty kilo bags of flour, after all. It seems a little easier after that, and I'm able to throw the balls with ease; some of them even going a few more meters. I notice out the corner of my eye that there are some of the Gamemakers watching me and nodding their approval. The others have started singing, sitting around in a jolly circle and drowning out everything else. Frustrated, I pick up the heaviest weight and throw it what I approximate to be around five meters, the thud so loud that it interrupts the Gamemakers singing. They seem to notice me properly, and one of them tells me I am dismissed.

I feel rather angry as I ride the elevator to the twelfth floor; angry at how they ignored me, how little they cared for how I fared in that arena. Perhaps the few who had paid little attention to me would work in my favor somewhat, but I don't see it going very well. I now understand how the last few districts usually ended up with lower scores in the past. We didn't get much of a chance.

I lounge around in my room for a while, until I hear some shouting out in the hallway. I get up and poke my head out the door, to see Effie and Haymitch knocking on Katniss' bedroom door and shouting at her to come out. I hear her shouting back, but only to tell them to go away. Frowning, I wander over to the pair of them as they walk away.

"What's going on?"

"We don't know," Effie says, sounding rather distressed. "Katniss has locked herself in her room, and refuses to come out." She continues incredulously, most likely appalled at her manners. I wonder at what could have possibly made Katniss so upset.

"How did your session go today, anyway?" Haymitch asks me, and I shrug.

"It went okay. Anyway, I'll see you both at dinner." I leave and go back to my own room, taking up my usual stance of lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

I think I must have dozed off in a swirl of thoughts of Katniss and home, as suddenly there's a knock on my door and Effie is calling me to dinner. Rolling off the bed, careful not to fall straight off the edge this time. I realize I am still in my clothes from training, so quickly change into some plain clothes before heading to the dining room. Cinna, Portia and Haymitch are already sat at the table and greet me as I enter, I'm not sat down long before Effie and Katniss also turn up.

Tonight they announce our scores, and it could affect our time in the arena greatly. It could mean the difference between getting sponsors and being left to fend completely for ourselves, it could mean the difference between the Careers leaving us to be picked off at the end and giving us a better chance or deciding we were a risk and taking us out as quick as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Eleven

Katniss is quiet as she sits at the table. All of the adults begin to talk in the way they sometimes do; about subjects that have no meaning or significance. I think they're talking about the weather forecast. I look across the table at Katniss. I'm quite surprised when she raises her eyes to me; I can't be sure but I think she might have been crying. I raise my eyebrows in question, knowing that she would know what I was asking – what had happened? She doesn't say anything though, just shakes her head in response.

As the main course is being served, Haymitch finally speaks up and asks what I'm sure is on the forefront of everybody's mind. "Okay, enough small talk – just how bad were you today?" Before the attention falls on Katniss and how upset she was afterwards, I jump in.

"I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song. I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go." The distraction doesn't last long, because Haymitch then turns to Katniss.

"And you, sweetheart?" There's a slight frown on Katniss' brow at the term sweetheart.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." There's a stunned silence. All knives and forks stop where they are, all of our eyes on Katniss.

"You what?" Effie sounds horrified.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just... I lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!"

"And what did they say?" Cinna asks gently.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that." She doesn't look up at any of us, but I can't help the swell of admiration fill me. She had taken a big act of defiance, whilst I had just thrown some balls around.

"Without being dismissed?" Effie gasps, whilst the rest of us watch the exchange.

"I dismissed myself," Katniss says, sounding quite defiant.

"Well, that's that," Haymitch says, then picks up a roll and butters it to resume his meal.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" Katniss asks, and I look up to see that slight terror in her eyes that others might miss. I realize that after so much watching I knew a lot of Katniss' expressions that she tried to hide.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," Haymitch replies.

"What about my family? Will they punish them?" Of course. That terror in her eyes wasn't for her own sake; it was for her mother and sister.

"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since its secret, so it'd be a waste of effort. More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena." Haymitch tells Katniss, and what he says makes sense.

"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway," I cut in, remembering the point of these Games; to make us suffer, to remind us that they have the power over us, which we live because they let us.

"Very true." Haymitch says, and I risk another glance at Katniss. She looks at least a little more cheered than when she had first sat down. Haymitch begins to eat again with his usual manner that causes Effie to frown, then he begins to chuckle to himself. "What were their faces like?"

Almost reluctantly, a small smile stretches across Katniss' lips. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backwards into a bowl of punch."

And suddenly we are all laughing at the table, except for Effie; who is still trying not to smile. "Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you." Effie is saying, shocking us a little. Her eyes dart around the room in shock. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she says to the air.

"I'll get a very bad score."

"Scores only matter if they're very good; no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy," Portia says.

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I joke, although not entirely untrue. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of meters? One almost landed on my foot." Katniss grins at me across the table, and I can't help smile back at her. I continue smiling as she begins to eat and watch her a moment longer before casting my gaze elsewhere.

Once dinner is finished we all go to the sitting room and turn on the television, waiting for the scores. The first lot of scores comes as no surprise. The careers get in the highest range and the rest of them get a middle average. Our shadow gets a seven, surprisingly, and I wonder what the young girl might have done in that room for the Gamemakers. Finally, it's our turn. Surprisingly, my name comes up with a score of eight, so the few that had noticed counted for something then. Katniss' face appears on the television and we all stare for a moment as the number elven flashes under it.

We all cheer, everyone is patting Katniss on the back in congratulations and Effie squeals in her excitement.

"There must be a mistake. How... how could that happen?" Katniss asks her eyes on Haymitch.

"Guess they liked your temper. They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat." He replies, the twitch of a smile on his lips.

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," Cinna smiles, before hugging Katniss. That small ebb of jealousy sprouts in the pit of my stomach. Jealous that her stylist gets to hug Katniss but I probably never would be able to. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

"More flames?" She asks.

"Of a sort," he replies mischievously.

Katniss and I walk up to one another to congratulate the other. I want to hug her, tell her she did well, tell her that it would be okay, I want to take her in my arms and kiss her. I settle for shaking her hand and smiling awkwardly at her; she returns the smile.

It isn't long before she flees to her room and I decide to go up to the roof. I sit by the railing and stare across the city, admiring the colors' and watching the people go about their night lives. All these people in one city, anticipating our deaths. Waiting to watch us kill one another. I think on this and the fact that in just a few days I would be in the arena and Katniss would be in the arena. And one of us must die.

I think of Katniss' eleven, and my score of eight and my mind is entirely a swirl of different emotions; did I want Katniss to survive, or I did I want to survive myself? I try to imagine what it would be like to go back to District Twelve, imagine if Katniss died in the arena and I somehow came out as victor. No glances across the square, no squirrels at the back door, no grey eyes in my life. The thoughts are unbearable and I shove them to the farthest recesses of my mind, returning to my room so that I can block them out with sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_Happy New Year, you beautiful people!_

Chapter Twelve

There's a familiar knocking at the door, which can only be followed by a, "Big, big, big day!" I groan and shake my head, refusing internally to get out of my bed. It was no use though, I'd have to get up eventually; I could either do it now and shower before the day started, or I could stay in bed until they dragged me out of bed all smelly and dirty. I decide to go for the former, remembering that I wish to speak to Haymitch and the others first.

My shower is quick; I tug my clothes on with haste, wanting to get to the dining room some time before Katniss arrives. There's some kind of buffet set up on a large table and I wander over, picking at some of the food. I pile some on to my plate, knowing that I will need to eat but not feeling all that hungry. Instead I feel almost sick to my stomach, sick at what her reaction might be. Haymitch is sat at the table already with his plate and I sit beside him.

"Morning, boy!" I think I mutter some kind of greeting, eating the melon on my plate. Just as I'm about to ask where she is, Effie walks into the room in her usual brightness – both in clothing and manner.

"Morning, morni-"

"I want to be trained separately." I suddenly blurt out, cutting Effie off mid-sentence. They're both staring at me. "I – I want Katniss and I to be trained in private." I mutter the last part, feeling deflated. I needed to get it out; the words had been eating me up ever since the night before.

"You sure?" Haymitch asks, and I nod. I pick something else from my plate and chew on it, but I'm unaware of what it is, or if it even has any flavor. Effie sits on my other side and they began to talk between them, planning out the training and who would take which one of us first. I sit in silence until they turn to me.

"Is there a particular reason you've changed your mind, Peeta?" Effie asks me. I shake my head and eat some more of my breakfast. I don't even remember what I had piled onto my plate.

"I'd rather discuss that later," I mumble. Katniss is walking into the room; she barely glances at us as Haymitch and Effie continue their muttering around me. Unaware of what is happening; Katniss sits and begins to eat her stew. Effie and Haymitch fall into silence. I pick at my food whilst avoiding looking at anyone. Katniss seems to notice the room is silent.

"So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?

"That's right," Haymitch confirms with a small nod.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time." She says, and I wince. She can't any more.

"Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach." Haymitch is saying, and I curse him in my head for drawing it out. Just say it. Just tell her. I can't do it myself. He must know I can't do it.

"What's that?"

From the corner of my eye I see Haymitch's shoulders rise in a shrug, "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

There. It's out in the open. No turning back now.

I can't help but glance up at her whilst I know she won't be concentrating on me, whilst she digests the information. A few expressions seem to flit across her face, some I don't understand. I see confusion in her eyes, probably trying to determine what had changed my mind. Probably getting it wrong.

"Good," she says, which hurts me a little. "So what's the schedule?" That's all she has to say, and I feel disappointment fill me. What had I expected? I had thought she might be upset at the idea, but of course not. My feelings had been growing since we had been reaped; Katniss had stayed the same. I was just a boy who lived in her District. Lived, because I did not expect to go back to District Twelve.

I realise Effie and Katniss are leaving, which means I am training with Haymitch first for the content of my interview. We leave the dining room and enter the sitting room; he waves his hand towards the sofa where I sit. There's a pause between us before he finally speaks up.

"So, trained separately?" Is all he asks, sitting back as he waits for my explanation.

My eyes flit across the room, as if expecting Katniss to be there listening in. But that's ludicrous; she's in her room with Effie. I settle my gaze on Haymitch, who is watching me expectantly. I sit forward, twist my fingers around one another, bite my lower lip, and try to think of how to explain to him.

"In the arena... I want to protect Katniss. I want her to live," I tell him, "but she can't know that is what I plan to do. She would never allow it; you've seen how she is. She doesn't like to be protected."

"Why?" The question catches me off guard and I look up. Haymitch is looking at me with an expression of open curiosity. I'm not sure if he's asking why I wish to protect her, or why she doesn't like to be protected. "Why do you want to protect her?" He elaborates.

"Because – well, because... I uhm..." I can't form the words; I'm unsure how to explain to this drunken, broken man.

"Because you love her," he's suddenly saying with what sounds like wonder in his voice. Realization seems to dawn on his face, and if I'm not mistaken I think I see understanding in his expression. As if he knows how I might feel, and the thought brings me up short. I wonder at that understanding. I wonder if there had once been a girl in his life, a girl he had wanted to protect. Had Haymitch been in love before he had been reaped? Haymitch had won the Hunger Games before I had even been born, so I don't know all of the news coverage around his winning; I knew only what the Capitol allowed us to see.

I think perhaps I had judged Haymitch too harshly.

"Yes," I sigh. "Because I love her." The words are finally spoken. I love Katniss Everdeen; I have loved her for a long time.

"Well," he says. "Well, well, well." I just watch him in silence, waiting for him to finally speak. "I think your approach in the interview is going to be pretty easy. You're likeable, boy. I have a feeling the crowd are going to love you." I frown a little, tapping a finger on my chin in order to keep my calm.

I had just told him I am in love with Katniss, and he has moved the conversation swiftly to the Interviews.

"And we need them to like you; they are going to be the only help you get in that arena." I nod my head to what he says and think about this.

"What about Katniss?" I ask, "She doesn't have a... very likeable manner. To most people." I add, feeling rather guilty at what I say. But I also know it's the truth, when looking at Katniss most people see a sullen, hostile woman. I see strength. I notice there's a slight smirk on Haymitch's lips.

"Well boy, you're going to tell the world that you're in love with her."


	13. Chapter 13

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_Thank you for all the love, again. I'd also like to say that this fanfic is just how I imagine things happened for Peeta, so some events may differ from what you think._

Chapter Thirteen

My mouth opens and closes a few times as I try to form a coherent sentence in my head that could roll off my tongue.

"Tell the – but I can't even admit it to her!" I say incredulously, surely he couldn't be serious.

"Then you can finally reveal your feelings," he shrugs, as if it isn't of importance.

"But..." I'm quite speechless and unsure how to argue against what Haymitch is saying. I remember a conversation on the roof with Cinna. _They need to love you._ "How am I even going to get that into the interview? I can't just blurt it out."

"Ceasar will ask you about a girl back home, he often does with a lot of the tributes. Especially those who are as charming as yourself. I have a feeling you and Ceasar will get along very well in your interview." Haymitch says. I digest the information, unsure what to do with it.

"What if he doesn't?" I ask.

Haymitch just stares at me for a moment or two and then shrugs it off, "then you'll have to try to fit it in somewhere. If you can't, we'll figure something out. We've been posing you as a team, as I'm sure you've noticed," Haymitch leans forward, his gaze fixed on me. "We've been making you stand out from the other Tributes because they need to remember you. If you manage to pull this off, you will stand out more than any other Tribute that has been shoved into that hell hole of an arena." There's anger in his tone as he speaks of the arena, and I get a glimpse into just how much Haymitch hates these Games. For years after his own victory he has been made to train those young people of District Twelve. For years he has had to watch them all die.

I wonder if those deaths are a heavy burden on his shoulders.

"All right, okay. I just need to tell them all that I love her, no big deal." I say weakly. It feels like my entire insides have dropped through the floor and the idea makes me rather queasy. Especially when I wonder what her reaction might be, what Katniss might think.

"She's not going to believe you," Haymitch says, as if reading my mind. His voice seems to soften a little, and then I realise it's an attempt to soften the blow to me. "Katniss is going to think you're making it up, for sponsors." He says it slowly, and I know what he's saying is true. After these interviews, Katniss will finally have some feelings towards me. The only problem is that she will mostly likely hate me, believe that I'm using her for my own gain.

"Do you think she may ever believe it?" I don't know why I ask, but I do know to expect a harsh truth from Haymitch.

"I don't know. I don't know if she'll ever have the chance to be convinced." A lot of words are left unsaid.

We move on and Haymitch acts out the Interviewer, and I have to answer the questions he poses to me. The atmosphere lightens as we keep it up, and he comments on how well I did. I manage a light smile at him, before thinking of something else.

"Haymitch... how can I protect her in the arena? Beyond getting us sponsors and making the Capitol like us?" Haymitch is silent for a while and I begin to think he isn't going to answer me.

"Her score is going to make her a big target, especially for the Careers." He tells me, raising an eyebrow to see if I understand his meaning. He sees from my blank expression that I do not. "You need to keep the Careers away from her, boy." He sighs.

"You're saying I need to join up with the Careers?" The thought doesn't please me at all, and I wonder how I'm even meant to get in with their small bunch of tributes.

Haymitch doesn't answer, he stands up.

"Time for dinner, I think."

I then take notice we'd been in the sitting room for four hours now, yet it had seemed like no time at all. Haymitch and I chat good naturedly on the way to the dining room, and he commends me again on how I had handled his interview questions.

"I think you might actually have a chance in that interview tomorrow," he says in almost wonder, flashing me a smile before turning to the food.

Before I even have time to fully finish my meal, Effie is pulling me to my feet and towards my room. I don't argue with her, but allow her to lead me to my room instead. There's a dark suit laid out on my bed and I guess that this must not be my outfit for the interview, but a practice one. I change in to the suit and Effie makes me walk around my bedroom, reminding me to smile, always smile. She straightens my back, says I slouch too much. I pretend there's a sack of flour on my shoulder, pulling them back so that I'm standing fully erect.

"Well, this is much easier than teaching Katniss." Effie says cheerfully, with just a hint of scorn in her tone. I glance at her with raised eyebrows.

"Did the training not go so well, then?" I ask casually, as I continue with my straight walking and my smiling.

Effie scoffs and rolls her eyes, but then stops herself and flashes me her usual grin that means we were not going to talk any more on the matter. She makes me practice sitting down with a straight back, and even more smiling. The muscles in my face almost hurt once she announces that we are finished.

I change out of the suit and into more comfortable shorts and a shirt; relieved that the day is over. Although it just means that it's nearly time for the Interviews, for all of us to open up to the Capitol about our personal lives and our personal feelings. Tomorrow the whole world will know my feelings for Katniss. Tomorrow Katniss will hate me.

It is just Haymitch, Effie and I sat at the table during lunch because Katniss stays in her room. They both praise me on how well I did during the day's training, and when they notice I'm not feeling very conversational they turn to praising me to one another. As I eat I notice that they don't seem as awkward or hateful around one another, almost as if they actually don't mind the company of the other. Almost.

Once dinner is finished I find myself on the roof once more. It seems to be the only place I feel I can breathe. Inside I am suffocated by all of the planning, the talk of the interviews and the Games. Up on the roof it is just I and the wind, going unnoticed by the City.

My thoughts are on Katniss, as per usual. I try to figure out what her reaction might be after I proclaim my love for her in front of the City. In front of the whole of Panem. Tomorrow all of the Districts will be made to watch the televised Interviews. All those friends from District Twelve will listen as I reveal my feelings. I try to figure out in my head how my friends and family might react. I know my father won't be surprised, as I'd often talked to him growing up about these feelings for the girl with the red plaid dress, her hair in two braids, the girl who I was too afraid to talk to, the girl who could silence all of the birds when she sang, the girl whose expression grew harder over the years.

I don't know how much time has passed but my eyes feel heavy and my head is so full of thoughts, but I can't hold any of those thoughts for too long as exhaustion takes hold. I decide to return to my room to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Fourteen

Someone is prodding me, calling my name. I'm aware of this as my brain tries to fight its way to consciousness. I finally manage to open my eyes, to see Portia staring down at me with a bright grin on her bright lips. At the end of my bed are the other three who make up the Prep team. I rub the sleep from my eyes and frown up at her, but she doesn't give me time to fully comprehend what morning it is. She's pulling the quilt from my bed in an attempt to wake me up; it works well as a chill sweeps across my body.

"Get up! We have to get started. No time to lose." Portia is telling me in an annoyingly loud and cheerful voice.

I can only groan as I practically fall out of the bed. Portia is pushing me to the bathroom, telling me that I must be quick in the shower whilst they set up my outfit for the interview. I run the shower cold at first to shock my body and mind in to waking up. Once that works I allow myself a warm shower and stand under the water a little while after washing myself. I want to put it all off as long as possible. I don't want to be put in the spotlight and made to reveal my feelings for Katniss in front of everybody I do or do not know. I'm suddenly very, very sick of these Games.

"Don't make me come in there and drag you out!" Portia is calling me from the other room, which actually makes me laugh a little. I step out of the shower and let the mat dry my body, placing my hand on the box to dry my hair. I wrap a towel around my waist and wander into the bedroom, where my team is waiting for me.

"Ah, finally." Portia sighs and beckons me over. The towel doesn't last long, but they allow me to put some underwear on since my outfit is a suit, so most of my body shall be covered.

Preparing me for the Interview doesn't seem to take very long at all. They dress me in the black suit and I admire the flame accents as one of the prep team is piling that horrible glop in my hair again. She styles my hair for me and to finish off they rub hints of glitter across my face, although only so much that my face shimmers in the right kind of light. Portia hands me some smart black shoes to put on. I stand for them to admire their work.

"Okay, let's go! It's time," Portia gushes with evident excitement; I feel a slight drop in my stomach. But I imagine my sack of flour and pull my shoulders back to stand straight. I mentally prepare myself for the night ahead. We make our way to the elevator and wait for Katniss and her team.

I'm playing with one of the sleeves of my suit, which hangs over my wrist slightly. There's a slight commotion as people speak up and I think there are some 'ahs' of wonder, so I glance up.

The breath catches in my throat and the usual fluttering explodes in my stomach, but more intense than usual. Katniss is absolutely breath taking, more than beautiful in her dress. When she moves, it looks like the dress is in flames and she is completely radiant as she wanders towards us. I notice there's more make up on her face than usual, yet they still managed to make her look like Katniss. I say nothing to her as she approaches, nor as we get into the elevator. She would only get suspicious if I tried to tell her just how stunning she is.

On our way down in the elevator I cannot help but keep casting quick glances at her, though.

The other tributes are being lined up to enter the stage, where we will be seated underneath an arc, made to listen to all of the other tributes in their interviews. I was to go last, as the girl always went before the boy. This could work in my favor, as my interview would be freshest in minds of the audience.

Just before we are led onto the stage, Haymitch appears behind us and hisses in our ears, "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it." I ignore him, as there won't be much chance to act like the happy team when we are sat on the stage. It seems like quite a long walk across the stage to where our seats are, and I sit down gratefully. The first thing I notice is all of the cameras around the stage and close to stands, ready to film any kind of reaction.

Ceaser seems to bounce up to the stage, looking the same as he does every year; except he has dyed his hair blue this year. He begins solo with some jokes to warm the audience up, but it isn't long before he's calling the tributes up to where he stands. Each interview is three minutes long and at the end a buzzer sounds to signal the end of that Tribute's time.

I try to concentrate on each tribute that step up to Ceaser and what they say. These people will be who I'm pitted against tomorrow, after all. Yet I can only think about how the time is ticking by so quickly, how it will be my turn to stand up soon enough. I notice that Ceasar is really quite a friendly guy and does his best to concentrate on any good attributes each tribute might show. His reactions and laughs really make the tributes seem better than they are. I sit straight in my seat as I had practiced for so long the day before, keeping a cheerful expression on my face if I'm not smiling.

All the tributes have their own kind of angle in the interview, like Haymitch had told me to concentrate on being likeable and charming. Some were sexy, ferocious or sly. When Rue flutters up to the front of the stage, the audience falls silent and Ceasar is sweet as he compliments her. I can't help but smile when she says that she's hard to catch, but can't help the edge of sadness to fall as I remember that she needs to be caught, if Katniss is to survive.

They're calling Katniss' name, and she glides up to where Ceasar is smiling at her. He's asking her what has impressed her the most since her arrival, and after a small pause she tells him the lamb stew. Ceasar is laughing, as well as the audience. They talk about the opening ceremony outfit, and then Katniss is showing off the dress she's wearing at the moment, getting admiration from the crowd. Suddenly, she's twirling for the audience and a genuine smile creeps across my face as I admire her with the rest of the audience. The rest of Panem, I'm sure. Ceasar puts his arm around Katniss to steady her once she's finished spinning; I squash the slight jealousy that I can't help feel whenever anybody gets close to her. They talk about a few other subjects and then the buzzer goes off, which means it is my turn.

The audience is still applauding Katniss when I make my way across the stage. I shake Ceasar's hand and he pats me on the back.

"Peeta, welcome to the Capitol! Tell me, you're a baker's son, am I right?"

"That's right, Ceasar." I smile at him.

"So how does the bread here in the City compare to that back at District Twelve?"

"Not quite as fresh as back home, I have to admit."

We go on about bread and me being a baker for a little time, and I compare each Tribute to a different bread roll, which the audience seems to enjoy. I find that I quite like Ceasar and it makes the Interview a lot easier.

"Those showers are really problematic, though!" I laugh, making a show of sniffing my sleeve. "I'm not sure what buttons I've been pressing, but please tell me; do I still smell of roses?" It was just a small lie; the showers _had_ been rather problematic at first. We both end up sniffing one another, and the crowd seems to be roaring in laughter, or perhaps that's just my imagination.

"You must be missing home?" He asks, and I wonder if perhaps they had heard my outburst on the roof garden with Katniss, after all.

"Of course."

"What about a girlfriend back home? Waiting for the return of her baker?" He asks me, and I realise now is the time to put mine and Haymitch's plan in action. I shake my head lamely in response.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

I make a point to sigh. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping." There's sympathy from the crowd, and I can almost imagine my family and friends back home watching the television and wondering.

"She have another fellow?" Ceasar asks sympathetically, my thoughts flickering to Gale. _You favor each other. _My stomach drops as it usually does when I think of the possibility of them together, not cousins.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her." I admit, remembering how often the boys at school had whispered of Katniss, of how pretty she was.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" He's trying to encourage me, and I wish it were as easy as that. As easy as returning the victor and winning the heart of the girl I'd dreamt of for so many years.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning … won't help in my case." I say, and I know I have the audience's attention now.

"Why ever not?" Ceasar asks me.

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and stammer to get the words out. I thought I might have to fake this part but I don't, because I can feel grey eyes on the back of my head. I wonder what she is thinking, perhaps trying to figure out who this girl might be, why I cannot be with her.

"Because … because … she came here with me." I finally say, lowering my eyes to the ground.

There are a few cries of pain from the crowd as they understand what I mean. I want to turn around, to look right into her eyes and tell her that it's true, that I'm not making it up.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Ceasar says, and I can tell he really is pained a little by the information.

"It's not good," I agree, nodding my head. Understatement of the century, because it is devastating. I was planning to talk to her this year; I just wasn't planning our first talk to involve us both heading to the Capitol. I will never have my first kiss with the girl of my dreams; I will never grow old with her, or even see her grow old. I can only help to ensure her safety and hope that she gets out alive to continue her life.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," Ceasar is saying, cutting me from my thoughts. "She didn't know?"

I shake my head, finally raising my head. "Not until now."

Ceasar is turning to the audience now, "Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" The crowd is screaming their assent. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The crowd's response is deafening and I have to suppress the smile on my lips. We now truly stand out to them. They are definitely behind us now. When they quiet, I manage a thank you and return to my seat. We have to stand and raise our heads for the anthem playing, and on the screen is a long shot of Katniss and me, separated by the space of the chairs. No doubt the audience sees that space and think of arena, and how that gap cannot be closed.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_Because it has been mentioned/asked a couple times - I can confirm that I definitely will be writing up the whole of The Hunger Games for this, would not leave you hanging. Not yet sure if I will be doing Catching Fire and Mockingjay. _

Chapter Fifteen

When the anthem is finished, we file back to the Training Centre lobby and make our way to the elevators. Katniss veers off away from me to a different car, I sigh gently and step into my own. There are other tributes in with me but none of us say anything, even as they are dropped off on their floor. The door to the twelfth floor is opening and I step out. Katniss is there, her hands suddenly slamming into my chest.

It's unexpected and she has quite a lot of force in her small body, so much that I lose my balance and fall backwards. I crash into an urn of fake flowers, the urn smashing into small pieces on the floor that I fall into. Blood oozes from cuts in the palm of my hands where I try to soften my fall.

"What was that for?" I ask her, in total shock.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" She is shouting, her face contorted in anger. I can't help but notice that she still manages to look pretty. Effie, Haymitch, Cinna and Portia step out of the elevator, pausing to take in the scene.

"What's going on?" Asks Effie almost hysterically. "Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me," I mutter, Effie and Cinna helping me to my feet.

"Shoved him?" Haymitch asks, turning to her.

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"

"It was my idea," I tell her. I begin pulling the pottery from my palms, wincing at the pain. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" She snaps.

"You _are_ a fool." Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own." He tells her. I pull some more shards of pottery from my palm, blood running down my hand and dripping onto to carpet.

"He made me look weak!"

"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve." Haymitch says, which I can't help but smirk at a little.

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" Katniss says, causing my smirk to drop instantly.

Haymitch is suddenly grabbing Katniss by the shoulders and pinning her against the wall. I'm about to step up and intervene but Cinna raises a hand to stop me. "Who cares?" Haymitch is saying. "It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?"

Katniss pushes Haymitch off her, her nose curled up in disgust. Cinna steps up to wrap an arm around her shoulder, and I can't even build up the jealousy I'd normally feel because I'm suddenly so annoyed at her. At her reaction to what I had said. I knew she would have been angry, but I didn't know she'd start pushing me into furniture.

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I suddenly mutter, tossing away the last piece of pottery.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she says with burning cheeks, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Whatever. But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, _you_ didn't say you loved _me._" _And you probably never will_, I think sadly. "So what does it matter?" I finish, except it _does_ matter. It matters to me, at least. I want to leave, but somehow feel it would be rude and sulky to just storm off in the middle of the argument.

"After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" She's asking everyone around her, and I try not to dwell on it too much. I never expected her to suddenly fall in love with me of course, but it's still disappointing.

"I'm sorry I shoved you," she apologises to me.

I shrug it off. "Doesn't matter. Although it's technically illegal." I say, at an attempt of a joke, but my tone is a little too serious I think.

"Are your hands okay?" She asks, and I realise I'm no longer annoyed at her. Not really.

"They'll be all right." I assure her, and then we're going into the dining room to eat.

I try to ignore the stabbing pains in my hands and attempt to eat, but after not too long there's blood in my soup. Portia rises and leads me away from the room. She takes out some bandages and I'm a little surprised when she begins to wrap them herself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asks me gently, I nod my head in response. She looks at me a long time after wrapping up the first hand and I sigh.

"She's never going to believe it's more than a pretence, is she?" I ask Portia quietly, staring down at my bloody hand. Portia's expression softens as she washes the blood from my second hand and begins to wrap that one also.

"I guess that all depends on how everything turns out, Peeta." She tells me gently.

"Yes, but one of us is going to die in the next few days. She's always going to think I did it for the sponsors," I sigh, feeling very dejected.

Portia places a hand on my cheek and smiles gently at me, sympathetically. "You're a wonderful boy, Peeta Mellark."

We say nothing more as we return to the dining room, just as the next course is being served. I don't look at anybody when I enter, knowing I can't hide the bandaged hands from any of them.

After dinner we have to go into the sitting room to watch the replay of the interviews, which I think is rather pointless considering we were all there to live through them. When the screen goes black I remember that we must say our goodbyes. At dawn we will be woken and taken to the arena.

Effie has tears in her eyes as she takes hold of our hands, thanking us for being her best tributes, ending with "I wouldn't at all be surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year." I can't help but think how I would probably never understand the minds of the Capitol citizens. Effie gives us both a kiss on the cheek before she rushes from the room, although I'm unsure whether it's from sadness or excitement.

Haymitch crosses his arms and seems to just look at us.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask him.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?"

"And after that?" Katniss asks.

"Stay alive," he says, but this time he is sober and we both nod.

Katniss leaves for her room but I hold back to talk to Portia, wanting to thank her for her input with the outfits. I think this is the last I will see her, but Portia tells me she will be there in the morning to wake me up. I go to my own room for a shower, to scrub out the hair gloop and get rid of the glitter on my face. Once I'm dried and dressed, I hover next to my bed for a few minutes. I should try to get some sleep, but my head is too full of thoughts. I decide to go to the roof.

I sit in my usual place on the roof by the railing, where I have a good view over the City in all of its beauty. I hold my hands rather awkwardly in their bandages, not wishing to hurt them more before tomorrow. I sit and stare, drowning in my own thoughts of the Games, of the arena that lay ahead of me, of how I was going to protect Katniss. I begin to wonder if that was something a tribute had done before; devoted their time in the arena to making sure somebody else survived. I doubt it.

In a few days I shall be dead, nothing more than a figure in their games. A statistic.

I glance down at the streets below me. They are ablaze with light, where the Capitol are celebrating the night before the Games begin. Where they are celebrating our imminent death. The thought suddenly makes me angry and I can feel the muscles in my jaw clench as I glare down at them. I don't want my death to be for their entertainment.

"You should be getting some sleep," her voice makes me start, but I keep my eyes ahead of me. Not quite wanting to look at her, the girl who would never know I love her. I shake my head a little.

"I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all." I say bitterly.

She moves closer, leaning over the railing to look down at the streets, full of dancing people. "Are they in costumes?" She asks.

"Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep, either?" I ask, still not daring to look at her. Watching the colourful people dance around the streets. It looks like a strange wave of colours that does not flow together.

"Couldn't turn my mind off." She says.

"Thinking about your family?" I ask her.

"No," she admits, a bit of guilt in her voice. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course. I really am sorry about your hands." she says.

"It doesn't matter, Katniss. I've never been a contender in these Games anyway." I say, still avoiding her gaze. She doesn't know the real reason I'm not a contender, though.

"That's no way to be thinking," she says.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and ..." I hesitate, unsure how to explain myself.

"And what?" She probes.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only … I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I ask, finally looking at her. She shakes her head in response. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." I tell her, thinking of Haymitch hinting that I should join up with the Careers. The Careers who make it their purpose to hunt out the other tributes. I notice Katniss is biting her lower lip.

"Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" She asks me.

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to … to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games." I explain all of my thoughts in the best way I can. These Games are a way for the Capitol to flaunt their Power over us, to show us they can do with us as they wish. But I am still me, I still have an identity, a life.

"But you're not. None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me. Don't you see?"

"A little. Only … no offence, but who cares, Peeta?" She says. I can feel myself getting more annoyed. Angry even.

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I snap, my eyes locked onto hers as I wait her answer. I can't say that there's only one thing for me to care about. Her. Her protection.

She steps back. "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive." _I don't want to stay alive without you. _I wish I was brave enough to say the words that roll around my head. But in a few days I will be dead and she will be living her life.

I almost scoff, but settle for a rather sarcastic smile. "Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart." I say, perhaps the use of Haymitch's patronizing nickname a bit too much. There's a flash of anger in her expression and it's like a small part of me breaking. _She will never know that I love her, _the harsh realisation runs through my mind and I am forced to swallow my sadness in front of Katniss.

"Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve."

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do. Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?" Sarcasm dripping from my tone. I wonder if she can hear the slight catch in my voice.

"Count on it," she retorts.

When I look back to where she had stood, Katniss is gone and I am alone again on the roof, left with my own tears.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Sixteen

I'm aware of being prodded awake, which means I'd managed to fall asleep at some point. I slowly open my heavy eyes, looking up at Portia. She has a tight smile on her lips, urging me from the bed. It takes me a moment to remember what day it is and what lies ahead. As soon as I remember, I want to crawl back into the bed, pull the covers tight over my head and refuse to come out. That isn't an option. My palms are stinging in pain where I cut myself the day before. My mouth is exceptionally dry. I gulp down two glasses of water whilst Portia is trying to dress me. It's not what I'll be wearing in the actual arena; I will have my final dressing under the arena.

Portia leads me up to the roof, where I expect to see Katniss. She isn't there and I can't help the slight disappointment I feel, just as the hovercraft appears above us. I climb up onto the lower rungs, preparing to climb up into the vehicle. My body is frozen as soon as I touch the hovercraft ladder, and it rises to pull me up safely. I'm still frozen inside the hovercraft, a man appearing in a white coat. He has a syringe in his hands. I want to pull away, knock it out of his hands or anything. I'm still frozen.

"This is your tracker. We keep you still so that I can place it easily." I think his tone is supposed to be reassuring, but the needle in his hands does not make me feel reassured. Just a tracker, that's all._Needles_, I think bitterly. The man takes hold of my arm and there's a sharp stab of pain when he injects the tracker deep into my skin. I grit my teeth and do my best not to hiss in pain.

I am finally released and the man with the syringe walks away, to be replaced with Portia. An Avox boy appears at our side and leads us to where our breakfast has been served. I really don't feel like eating, but knowing what I am about to face I don't have much of a choice. There's no telling when my next meal might be. So I sit and eat as much as my stomach will allow without throwing up. It all tastes like rubber.

I don't know how long the ride actually takes, only that it feels like a lifetime, like awaiting my own death sentence. I tap on the table, run my fingers along the grain patterns atop of it. Eventually Portia places her hands on top of mine own, making me look up at her.

"Please Peeta, you're making me nervous." I scoff and shake my head some.

"Nervous about what? That my hair might not be perfect when I die?" I regret the words as soon as they escape my mouth. I turn to Portia, who has the hint of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry Portia, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I'm just so – well, nervous. But that wasn't fair." I sigh.

Portia smiles at me gently and nods her head.

"It's all right Peeta, I understand." I still feel terrible. We go the rest of the journey in silence, with Portia's hands still resting on top of mine. It's rather comforting.

The windows black out, indicating that we are nearing the arena. When the hovercraft lands, Portia and I go back to the ladder. We step out into an underground tunnel that I presume is under the arena. I think somebody is giving us directions to my chamber, but I'm not listening to them. I follow Portia in a zombie like state. My mind wanders a little, to how people in the Districts refer to the chambers as Stockyards. Otherwise known as where animals go before the slaughter.

I wonder if Katniss is as nervous as I am, but decide she is probably as solid as a rock at this moment in time. She probably has her hard expression on, paying attention to everything around her.

I push all my thoughts aside, concentrating on what Portia is saying to me.

"You need to shower and brush your teeth now," she points to the bathroom.

I go through the motions of a shower, relieved that it's the same as the one in the Training Centre. I feel much more fresh once I step out, not even bothering to cover myself in front of Portia. There isn't much point in being embarrassed in front of someone who has already seen me naked multiple times. Portia is looking at me critically.

"What is it?" I ask, suddenly nervous that something was wrong.

"Nothing, nothing. I just decided we shall leave your hair as it is. No need for any gel today." I think of what I had said on the hovercraft and feel even guiltier than before.

"If that's what you think."

Somebody steps into the room with a package, and I instantly cover myself. I may be comfortable with Portia seeing me naked, but this person is a stranger. He leaves quickly and without a word. Portia helps me dress in the rather simple clothes. She takes a closer look at the black hooded jacket and nods, as if noticing something she had expected.

"This jacket is made of material to reflect your body heat. No doubt the nights will be cold in the arena." I nod and pull it over my head. The boots are next, which are as high as my calves and made of soft leather. They feel comfortable.

"Okay, have a little walk to get used to it." I do as Portia says and walk around in a few wide circles, lifting and stretching my arms and legs to make sure everything fit. It does, and rather snugly.

"So... now we wait?" I ask Portia, who nods glumly.

We sit on the couch that is provided. I begin drumming my fingers against my knee, but Portia says nothing this time. We are silent for a long while and a million thoughts are running through my head.

This is it. This is the day I could die. This is the day Katniss could die. Either one of us could be dead in just an hour or more, a single cannon to let the other tributes know. I wonder what Katniss is doing, and thoughts of her seem to numb the cold terror rushing through me, albeit only a little. My hands are sweating when Portia takes them in her own perfectly manicured, feminine hands. Katniss' hands are rough like my own, her nails only perfect since being in the Capitol. I want it to be Katniss' hands around mine, reassuring me.

"You're trembling," Portia notes.

"I'm scared," I breathe quietly, wondering if there are cameras trained on us right now.

"Just remember what Haymitch said. You have to run, find water, and get out of sight." She tells me, but I'm shaking my head.

"No, no. I need to join with the Careers, Haymitch told me to join with the Careers. It's the best way." The words spill from my mouth in a rush, and somewhere in my brain I'm aware that Portia likely has no clue what I'm talking about.

"The Careers? Peeta, listen to me. When that gong sounds, you need to get the hell out of there. Do you hear me? You cannot hang around at the Cornucopia." I'm surprised, as I don't think I've heard Portia cuss before, even if it was only mild.

A female voice announces it's time to prepare myself. I stand up shakily, dropping Portia's hands. I turn and smile at her, but she is crying. I have no time to console her, so I step on the metal plate.

"Thank you, Portia." I smile across the room at her, yet she just stares at me.

A deep breath. I remember my imaginary sack of flour and straighten my back, standing tall and proud. I wipe any emotion from my face, as I imagine Katniss doing. The cylinder beings to rise and for a small while I am stood in darkness. Suddenly, there is open air and bright sunlight that causes me to squint a little. Once my vision is clear, my eyes instantly search out Katniss. She is standing straight, her eyes subtly flicking around to take in our arena.

The announcer's voice booms all around us.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"


	17. Chapter 17

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_I'm getting really excited for this fanfic! And I've been writing quite ahead lately, so an early update for you._

Chapter Seventeen

Sixty seconds. I have to stand here for sixty seconds before the gong sounds and it all begins. Adrenaline is rushing through my entire body. This is it. I manage to find some order in my thoughts and have a look in front of me at what kind of supplies they've provided for us. Laid out are a lot of items, including weapons, food, tents and medical kits. The high value items are closer to the Cornucopia. There on some blankets. My attention is drawn to the bow and arrow, Katniss' weapon. I glance to my left, where Katniss is standing five tributes from me. She's looking around, that Hunter look in her eyes. _Go for the woods, go for the woods. _I pray in my head, but suddenly she's setting herself to run. Dread washes through me, I realise she's setting herself for the weapon. She can't run into the thick of it right away, she will get herself killed in the first hour. I refuse to let that happen, even if it means staying and fighting everybody away from her. I continue to stare at her, willing Katniss to look back at me.

Suddenly, she turns to me. Our eyes meet and I shake my head subtly, hoping she'll understand my meaning. Don't do it, get out of here. I'm aware the minute is almost finished, I think of Portia's tears, of Haymitch's advice, and of Katniss.

The gong goes off, and I think of the woods. I have to run to the woods. My feet push me forward towards the Cornucopia. There's a large knife close to me that I can reach, nobody else seems to be heading for it. I scoop the weapon up and turn, my eyes training instantly on Katniss. I'd recognize her figure in any kind of crowd. A boy is trying to grab the orange backpack that she has in her hands. _No, keep away from her_. I start to run towards them, just as the girl from District two sinks a knife into the boy's back. I don't stop running; just as the girl won't stop throwing her knives. I wonder if I can throw the knife in my hand at her, but know it won't even scrape her skin. I am a terrible throw.

Katniss is running, using the backpack to protect her head as another knife sails through the air. I allow myself a small moment of relief that she is getting away. I turn my attention upon the bow and arrow behind me, deciding to get it for Katniss.

Somebody knocks into me. I'm so distracted that they get a good hold around my waist and we both tumble to the ground. The impact winds me a little and my ankle twists beneath me but I don't have time to gasp in pain, I kick the body on top of me and roll over to my feet in a crouch. I'm looking into the eyes of the girl from District Two, who is smiling maliciously at me.

"Ah, lover boy." She sniggers, drawing a knife. "I'm going to get rid of you, then go looking for that little girlfriend of yours." Hot anger fills me at the thought of this girl going after Katniss and harming her. I remember the knife in my own hand and get a better grip on the handle. She lunges for me, her knife reflecting the sun in a bright, quick flash. I attempt to duck out of the way of her knife whilst bringing my own up to catch her skin, but she is fast and there's a sharp pain across my arm. I manage to knock into her side so that she loses her balance and falls to a heap on the floor. I press my hand over the wound and wince at the pain, my hand coming away wet with blood. She doesn't stay down long; already back on her feet and glaring me down. I notice there's blood welling up from a wound on her lower arm. Her eyes flick to the blood on my arm and there's the twitch of a smirk on her lips, momentarily forgetting I had managed to cut her too.

She's going to try and kill me. I can see it in her eyes. In the way she holds her knife and calculates my movements. She doesn't hold back long and lunges at me again. I manage to dodge her knife this time and use my body weight to slam into her side. What I believe to be her elbow slams into my face, startling me. I push forward to knock her to the ground, the knife skittering across the ground and out of her reach.

I hesitate as I battle with my morale's. I can't hit her – she's a girl! But if I don't, she could kill me and chase after Katniss. And from what I saw, she's very good with knives. Before she gets a chance to get up again I hold her down. I pull her into a headlock to keep her away from her weapon, wondering what to do. I know I can't let her go; she is trained to hunt and kill other tributes. But can I really sit here and strangle this girl until she is no longer breathing?

Whilst battling with myself, I forget that there are other tributes around us. Hands are grabbing my arms and pulling me back. I struggle at first, the girl choking beneath my grip as the other tributes try to yank me away from her. Another pair of hands on me and I let go. I am outnumbered. A fist connects with my face, but I have no idea who it belongs to.

Wiping the blood from my mouth, I squint up at the Careers.

"What should we do with him, Cato?" _Kill me, and kill me quick._

I notice that the sky is very blue, a sun beating down upon the arena. I wonder if it is the real sun, or one created by the Gamemakers. Had it been sunny in the Capitol today?

"Let me kill him Cato, please!" I recognize the girl's voice as the one who had attacked me. I look at her and notice she is rubbing her neck a little where my arm had tightened around it. If looks could kill, I would already be dead under her glare many times over. A few meters from where I lay there was a girl pleading for her life. Seconds later the sickening sound of a blade hitting flesh, the strangled moan of pain. And then silence. I close my eyes for a moment and force myself to breathe slowly. To show no fear.

"Clove," says the one who I presume to be Cato in a stern manner. He glances at her quickly with the expression of a leader, and she steps back. I wonder at that glance. The glance of a leader and a follower? Or possibly the glance of a boy and girl who didn't want to be pitted against one another. A boy and a girl who want to kiss, rather than kill. I suddenly laugh at the idea, unable to hold it in. The idea of Careers having feelings just seems ludicrous. All eyes turn on me once more and they are regarding me with suspicion.

"What are you laughing at, lover boy?" Clove asks in almost a hiss. I wonder if she is going to carry on calling me that until the end.

"Maybe he's already gone mad," another suggests.

"You won't be able to catch her." I hear myself say the words, a smile on my lips because I know it's true. Cato and Clove exchange a look, one that I don't bother trying to analyze.

"What's he talking about?" I don't know who the voice belongs to.

"His little girlfriend," Clove spits. I decide not to correct her, let at least one person believe Katniss could be my girlfriend.

"She's too fast. Too strong. Too_ clever_. You won't be able to catch her." I repeat, grinning up at them.

Cato is grabbing my hand and I flinch away at first, but he's pulling me to my feet.

"You're right. We probably won't be able to catch her... but you will." He pats me on the shoulder and smiles, before turning and walking away. Clove is hot on his heels. My smile falters, until I remember this was the plan. I'm supposed to team up with the Careers. But the idea still revolts me. These people hunt out the other Tributes, anyone who is weaker than they. They probably enjoy it, too.

"Okay guys, we need to collect all the supplies here and keep them together." Cato is saying.

I take a breath and wince, sharp pain shooting through my ribs where Clove had knocked me down. It felt like either she or the impact had managed to bruise my ribs, but it doesn't feel like any lasting damage. My hands are stinging and I examine them quickly. A few of the cuts had opened up again and my palms were smeared with blood. The cut on my right arm is bleeding freely, the sleeve of my shirt sticky with blood. There's a dull pain in my ankle that had twisted, so my stance is a little awkward. My face also aches a little, and I presume bruises are already forming. There's a medical kit in one of the remaining backpacks. I use the bandages to wrap my arm up tightly, cutting off the blood flow.

I can't help but allow my gaze to wander away to the woods, where I know Katniss is hiding. I wonder if she is still running, putting as much distance between her and _us_. I think of _us _rather bitterly, this is not a side I wish to be on. Yet it is the best way to ensure her safety.

I turn back to where the others are collecting up the supplies and starting to move them. My breath hitches a little as I take in the scene before me. There are bodies all over; I count eleven dead or dying. The grass is smeared red. Blood.

I allow myself a long, shaky breath to straighten myself and harden my exterior. I cannot mourn for these dead Tributes. I remind myself that I do not actually know these people. But seeing them sprawled across the ground and forgotten already by the Careers has really made a realization hit home.

This is real. I am now fighting for not only my survival, but for Katniss' life.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Eighteen

We set up a camp near the lake with our supplies in one big pile. Not exactly inconspicuous but since it is the Careers I am with I don't expect anything of the kind. I wonder if Katniss is hiding somewhere already. My thoughts are racing with Katniss. Wondering what she is doing, if she has found an ally, if she is on her own, if she has found water.

The sound of the first canon interrupts my thoughts. The Careers carry on with their conversations as the canons fire, but I stay silent and count them in my head. Eleven canons mean eleven dead. Eleven children already dead on the first day; eleven families already mourning. I eat my last three crackers in silence, staring at the ground. I don't know the names of the dead, but they were all burned into my mind.

"Eleven down, twelve to go." Someone says behind me, making me feel a little ill.

I finally look around me at my new allies, a couple of them glancing at me suspiciously. These are allies that do not trust me, and who I do not trust. We have been sitting here by the lake for an hour or so I believe; I can't be entirely sure because I don't have any clue what the time is. After moving the supplies we sit to eat, rest and attend to any wounds.

The sun is still bright in the sky when Cato gets to his feet, picking a backpack that had been packed with specific supplies. "We're going hunting," he announces to the rest of us. I snap my head up to attention. Does he mean for dinner? We have plenty of food from the Cornucopia. It takes me a moment to understand that Cato doesn't mean animals for food. He means tributes. My thoughts return to Katniss.

I get to my feet and limp over to where Cato and Clove are getting ready to head into the woods. When I pick up a backpack they both look up in unison and stare at me.

"What are you doing?" Clove asks me in a rather deadly tone.

"Hunting." I reply, as if it were obvious.

"Nobody said you were coming along," Clove frowns at me. I turn to Cato, choosing to ignore her. It is quite obvious who is in charge of these Careers. The large boy seems to be considering me with suspicious eyes.

"He comes with us. Clove, perhaps you should stay behind with the supplies?" Cato turns to see the full outrage on Clove's face. He pauses, seemingly reconsidering his offer. "Or actually, perhaps it's best if Glimmer stays back." I glance across at the girl, who has the bow and arrows that I'm sure is meant for Katniss. It's obvious that she doesn't really know how to use the weapon as she plays around with it, confusion clearly etched into her expression.

"Cato, why is he coming with us?" Clove hisses. I'm unsure whether I am supposed to hear her or not. Cato sighs.

"Because he knows her, Clove. He knows her secret and he could be useful." I decide not to mention how rude it is to talk about somehow as if they were not there. Clove just huffs and storms away to get herself ready. Cato is watching me carefully. I turn to him and try my friendliest smile. He continues watching me with a straight, hard face. It reminds me of Katniss a little, how he can pull all emotions from his face.

"So, what is her secret?" He asks casually.

"It doesn't matter for the moment. When it becomes an issue, I will let you know." I say stiffly, hoping that will keep him at bay. At first I think he is going to push the subject, but Clove is at our side once again.

"Okay, everybody is ready to go." I grab my own backpack full of food, medical supplies, water and a torch. Everything that could hold supplies had already been packed with hunting provisions by Clove and Cato. It scared me a little how efficient and ordered they were for this particular task.

The first few hours of the hunt involve a lot of walking but Cato doesn't seem to be bothered by the lack of other Tributes. My guess is that the real hunt doesn't start until the sun goes down.

As the sky darkens to night the Anthem rings out over the arena and we all stop in our tracks, turning our attention to the sky. The Capitol seal is floating in the night sky. Headshots of the dead and the District they came from float over us. No names, just faces. I know that Katniss is still alive because there hadn't been another canon to announce anyone else dead. Relief still fills me when I don't see her face in the sky. When the seal disappears and the music finishes, the Careers carry on with whatever they might have been talking about before. And the walking continues. They don't bother trying to be quiet whilst heading through the woods, which personally I think is a little stupid on their part. Any Tribute nearby is likely to stay silent and out of sight until the loud pack move on.

As it gets later everyone is obviously getting more and more tired, meaning they talk less and move more quietly. Any suspicious sounds pull Cato and Clove up short, preparing themselves to fight. Every time it is been an animal or the wind. Sometimes they kill the animals anyway, and move on without even taking the animal as a meal for later. I am still trying to figure out just how much they delight in the kill.

There's some light beginning to peak over the trees when Cato sees the glow in the trees.

"There!" He hisses, pointing up at what seems to be dying embers of a fire. My heart thumps harshly against my chest at thoughts of Katniss, but force myself to calm down. She is smart. Too smart to light a fire in the night. I repeat this idea in my head as the others break into a run towards the dying fire. I try to keep up, but my twisted ankle is throbbing in pain. It's a girl but not Katniss, I notice with much relief. She must have dozed off by her fire.

Clove and the boy called Marvel are the first to arrive. They grab her arms, startling the girl awake. Cato strolls up to where she is pleading with them, looking up with wide, frightened eyes.

"No, please! No!" I stay back a few paces, trying to hold myself tall and strong. Cato slams his sword into the girl's chest and she screams in agony. I can't help but flinch and look away, biting on my knuckles to hold in my disgust. Her scream fades until I can't hear her over the Careers cheering and congratulating one another. I force myself to look back at them. I keep my eyes up on the faces of the Careers, rather than the girl.

"Check her for anything useful." Cato says, then turning to look at me. I make myself smile tightly and nod my head, hoping it looks like a nod of approval. He says nothing, just pulls the sword from the girl's chest. The sound of it coming out of the flesh is sickening, and I'm sure I hear a small cry from the girl. The others don't seem to notice.

"Useless. This girl has nothing on her." Clove sighs.

"Wonder who she was," Marvel muses, mostly to himself.

"Who cares?" Clove cuts in harshly.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking." Cato says, making us all move on. Clove and Cato debate over whether to move on or return to the base camp. I can only think of the girl and her final plead. _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._ I repeat the apology in my head to the dead girl.

The others stop in a clearing, trying to come to a decision. I feel sluggish and just want to lie somewhere away from these people.

"Shouldn't we have heard a canon by now?" Clove's voice breaks through my thoughts. Could the girl really still be alive?

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead."

"She's dead. I struck her myself."

The argument goes on and I get more and more irritated at them. I'm exhausted physically and mentally, but these games have only just begun.

"We're wasting time!" I suddenly cut through whatever they were arguing about. "I'll go finish her and let's move on!" I snap.

"Go on then lover boy," Cato says. Oh wonderful, the nickname is spreading. "See for yourself."

With a sigh, I turn and retrace our steps to where the girl lays by her dying fire. I hesitate when I see her there but force my feet to move forward, falling to my knees beside her. Blood is pooling around her, which I avoid kneeling in. She's breathing still, but her breaths are very ragged. She gurgles a little, blood spilling from her lips and running in a line down her cheek. I choke back a sob and take her hand in mine.

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly to her. Her eyes flicker a little, finding me at her side. She tries to say something but can't seem to form any words. She is very nearly dead, so I kneel by her side and hold her hand.

"I'm sorry, but it's going to be okay now. It will stop hurting now." I mutter, stroking the back of her hand. She takes one last ragged breath before falling still, her eyes staring up at the brightening sky. I close her eyelids and lay her hand gently on her chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper one last time before returning to the Careers.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks as soon as he sees me break through the trees.

"No. But she is now." The canon sounds through the air. Cato is looking at me with suspicion, Clove with wonder. "Ready to move on?"

I hate them even more.


	19. Chapter 19

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Nineteen

Running. Running fast. The heat is building up around us. One way to go. It is a trap; surely everyone must know it is a trap. There is no choice. There's a wall of fire building up around us. I don't even know how it started. One minute we were parading through the woods in search for Tributes and the next the dark sky lit up with flames, and we were running for our lives.

Branches are falling around us, all of them aflame and throwing up sparks. Small animals are fleeing under our feet and disappearing into the bushes. I follow blindly behind the others. I have to ignore the pain in my ankle in order to keep up; there is not a chance of them waiting for me. I pull my shirt up over my nose and mouth as I run, in an attempt to hold off the worst of the smoke that fills the air. The sweat soaked into the shirt gives me small protection, but it is better than nothing.

We seem to be running for hours, zigzagging around the trees and rocks. Breathing is starting to get painful and each breath causes sharp pain down to my lungs. The fire is everywhere, no chance of stopping. Glimmer falls down ahead of me. She shrieks as she goes down and curls in on herself. The others carry on running. I skid to a stop, risking a glance back at the wall of fire. The sight of the flames causes my heart to hammer against my chest, panic almost freezing me to the spot. Glimmer's whimpering breaks me out of my fear. I yank on her arm.

"Come on!" I shout at her, but she shakes her head and tries to pull her arm away. I reach down and put my arms under her armpits, using all my strength to pull her up off the floor.

"Leave me alone!" She shrieks at me, but I pull her along. Part of me wants to leave her, to get away as fast as I can and catch up to the others.

"Run, Glimmer! Run or we're both going to die!" I shout in her ear, over the noise of crackling flames and sparking branches.

Just as I'm about to give up hope she stands up to her full height, turning purposefully away from the flames. She doesn't say anything to me but starts running in the direction of the others. I follow behind quickly. We run together for a long time, and after a while Glimmer starts shouting out for the others. I want to tell her to stop shouting, but speaking or shouting will only cause me to inhale more smoke.

Finally we come across the others, just in time to see a fireball fall from the air and land close behind them. The fireballs continue raining down on us and there are a lot of close calls. One lands not far in front of me and I have to skid to an abrupt stop, almost falling to the ground. Sparks of flame burst and I hiss in pain as I'm caught in the chest, patting down on it to make sure the cloth doesn't catch fire.

I don't know how long we run for, it must be hours. But finally, the attack stops. Marvel is shouting for Glimmer, Cato and Clove are shouting for one another. We run into a clearing, and I hear her name.

"It's that girl, Katniss!" I don't know who says it. I gasp in the fresh air, coughing and spluttering. I rush into the bushes in order to throw up. After a few moments I can breathe properly again and return to the others, who are gathered around a tree. Confused, I glance up into the branches. My stomach drops and my heart flutters a little. Katniss is in the tree, smirking down at the Careers. I join in with the group, but do not look up at her. I can't. I can't see the disappointment, hurt or anger in her expression. What does she think of me now, knowing I'm with the Careers? I decide that I don't want to know.

"How's everything with you?" she calls down cheerfully.

"Well enough," Cato answers. "Yourself?"

"It's been a bit warm for my taste. The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?" I take my knife from my pocket, using my shirt to wipe the already clean blade. I haven't used the weapon since the day before when killing rabbits and there was no need to clean it. But it was better than listening in on the conversation between Cato and Katniss.

I watch as Cato and Glimmer both attempt to scale the tree up to where Katniss is sat, although they both have no chance of getting so high. They may have trained to kill other Tributes and they may be stronger than most that come into the arena, but they are obviously not trained to scramble up trees in order to escape an enemy. It takes a lot of will power to not laugh when Cato falls out of the tree, having to keep my straight face on. Glimmer seems to do quite well at getting up, until the branches begin to snap beneath her weight so she stops. Smart move. She attempts to shoot Katniss with the bow and arrow, but she's even worse than I had originally thought. My mind is racing, trying to figure out how I can get Katniss out of here, or make the Careers leave to give her time to escape. The others are huddling around, trying to come up with a plan to get Katniss down. Cato mentions something about hacking down the tree and I glance at the thick trunk, wondering if he could really cut through it. It's getting darker and after a few more theories and master plans my irritation bursts through.

"Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning." My ankle is throbbing a little and I want to sit down, not to mention my throat is sore from all the smoke I inhaled back in the wall of fire. I glance across at Glimmer, who notices my gaze and looks at me with a timid, shy smile. I feel the smile is her way of saying thank you for saving her life.

I sit down, massaging the pain in my ankle from running, so much running. It didn't hurt as much after resting all of the day before. After the hunt at night, the Careers like to rest until late afternoon. In my backpack is some cooked rabbit that I had caught the day before. The Careers seemed to have been impressed when I brought a few rabbits back, pretending I had used my knife. They didn't need to know it had been a lot of stumbling and crushing the poor animals.

The anthem begins playing and I turn my attention up to the sky. Nobody has died today so it isn't long before the sky clears up. I want to look at the tree, one more glance before I go to sleep. Hopefully, Katniss will be gone before morning arrives. There's supposed to be someone on watch, but people often fall asleep. Especially after such an exhausting day.

"Okay, Glimmer is on watch tonight. Everyone else should get some sleep." Cato mumbles, starting to sound a little sleepy.

As I curl up on the ground, I can't help but glance up at the shadow in the branches. There's some movement, a flash of Katniss' in the light of someone's torch.


	20. Chapter 20

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Twenty

A strange noise begins to wake me, it sounds like a buzzing noise. Is it getting closer? There's a painful stab on my neck. It springs me awake and I open my eyes. There's chaos in the small camp, and a sting on my chest pushes me to my feet. One of the girls is shrieking and there are shouts of panic from the others.

"Wasps!"

"Tracker jackers!" Panic. Panic everywhere. I pick up a spear near my side and start running quickly, back towards the lake. Cato and Clove seem to have the right idea, but waste time waving their arms in the air to try and fight off the creatures. A couple more stings on my upper body, but I can see the lake already. I wade into the shallow water and then dive right into the deep area. I'm starting to feel woozy, but concentrate on swimming to the other side, away from the chaos. My movements are suddenly wobbly and I worry I'm going to faint underwater. I rise to the surface at the other side, stumbling out onto the edge. Cato and Clove are sitting at the edge but they don't look so good. I can't see most of the wounds as they are all high up on my body, but there's a foul smell. I tenderly touch the sting on my neck, and grimace at the green ooze on my fingers.

"I'm going to kill her," Cato is saying and I look across at him. He is getting to his feet, using Clove's shoulder to lift himself to his feet. "I'm going back to kill her, and see if the others are all right." He starts walking back, with Clove at his side. I use the spear I'd picked up to help myself to my feet, having to pause for a moment as the world seems like it's about to start spinning. I catch them up and head back to where we had been. "What are you doing, lover boy?" He almost snarls.

"Going back with you," I reply tightly. He doesn't say anything.

I hope Katniss has the sense to be far away from the tree and tracker jacker's nest, because surely she wouldn't be stupid enough to stick around. A canon fires and my stomach drops. No, it couldn't be. It's not her. I start running. I think I hear the others begin running behind me but they aren't as fast. My spear is in hand, ready to hurt whoever it is that might have killed her. But it can't be her. I break out into the clearing suddenly and stop, the breath catching in my throat. She's standing there, looking back at me. I lower the spear, because she is safe.

"What are you still doing here?" I hiss at her, but she just stares back at me blankly. I wander over to her and start prodding her with the shaft. Not enough to harm her. "Are you mad? Get up! Get up!" I continue prodding her until she rises. The others can't be far behind me, they have to be closing in on us. I push her away in the opposite direction and scream at her, "run!" I push her again for good measure. "Run!"

The thundering footsteps behind me alert me to Cato appearing at the scene. Katniss finally takes my advice, running away from us. I spin on my heels to face Cato, who is rushing straight for me. His skin is bubbling, his wounds bleeding orange. What is happening? Then I remember, tracker jacker poison. I sway a little on my feet but hold the spear up to fend Cato off. He's good with a sword, I know that. But he's also been poisoned, and I think he's having trouble staying up. Or is that my imagination? The world is moving, there's a snake at my feet, curling around them. I shout out in surprise and jump back. There's a sharp, searing pain at the top of my leg. I cry out in pain and stumble forward onto all fours. Cato, where is he? I look behind me. Cato is holding his head in his hands, his sword on the floor. He's shouting something and I think I hear him cry Clove's name.

I get to my feet and start running, far and fast. The world is changing around me. Somewhere, somebody screams. _Katniss._ I call out her name, run towards the voice. She has to be near. More snakes, slithering after me.

"No, leave me alone." I moan, putting more speed into my run. Running is difficult, the hot pain in my leg is pumping. My leg wet with blood. A few times I stumble, occasionally I fall and continue crawling. I can't let the snakes catch me. I crumple in on myself, falling to the ground. They need to leave me alone, why won't they leave me alone? I rock back and forth, wrapping my arms around my knees. I close my eyes to block out the horrors. There are snakes everywhere, closing in on me. They're all over me, tightening around my body. Finally, the world goes dark.

"_Peeta! Help me Peeta!"_Her voice wakes me up, wakes me from blissful unconsciousness. I roll over and reach out, towards her voice. She needs me, but where is she? There across from me, I see her. I start crawling towards her, pain shooting through my body. I do my best to ignore all the pain because Katniss needs me. Then I see the blood, she's covered in it. _No, no, no, no._ This cannot be happening, she has to be safe. I have to keep her safe. She dies before I can reach her, staring at me with lifeless eyes. I cry out her name, can't help the tears that come flowing.

"_It's all right, son." _My father. He always used to say that after my mother got into one of her moods. After a beating, he'd always be on hand to reassure me it's all right. I have to watch him die, and more screams. From me. I carry on screaming until unconsciousness takes me over once more. The events repeat and I lose count of how many times I have to watch Katniss die, my father die, my brothers die. Each time I crawl a little further, trying to reach a screaming Katniss or a pleading Lukail. Each time they die before I can get to them.

Finally the hallucinations stop, the venom has obviously made its way out of my system. I lie there for a little while, just in case. Once I'm sure it is over, I try to move myself into a sitting position. My body screams in pain. The top of my left leg feels like it is burning, and I remember Cato and his sword. His skin bubbling. I shudder at the memory. My ankle is throbbing a little and I guess that all the running in the past few days has really not helped. How long has it been? I don't even know how long I have been down due the hallucinations, it could have been days.

I look around me, noting that I'm definitely in the woods. There's the sound of water, but it's the quiet, calming sound of a stream. It takes me a moment to realise that I'm sitting in the river and my ankles are wet, my legs caked in mud. I shuffle up to lean on an elbow, cupping my hand to collect water. It's refreshing, but does nothing to help the aches and pains in my body. I have to move, to find a hiding place.

It takes a long time, but I manage to get to my feet. I limp forward unsteadily through the stream, but only manage a few steps. I can barely stand on my left leg. I fall against a large boulder on the bank, panting hard. I look down at my leg, which is beginning to seize up beneath me. There's blood on the boulder. I wipe it with my sleeve and consider heading up the bank and away. But it's no use, I'm unable to go anywhere with the pain throbbing in my leg. Each step sends a jolt of harsh pain through my body. Plus if I leave now, there isn't much chance of me finding this stream again.

I d slump down the boulder into a sitting position. I land in the mud, but dirty trousers are the least of my worries. I need to hide. I'm hurt badly and weak; easy prey for any of the Tributes. Even that small girl, if she's alive. I begin to swirl patterns into the mud with my finger as I try to think. Then an idea strikes.

I scoop up the mud with my hands and begin to cover my legs.


	21. Chapter 21

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

****_A message to Ari, who left a review but I could not reply to: I didn't leave the rooftop scene out? It's in Chapter Fifteen I believe! Feel free to message me :) _

Chapter Twenty One

I lie for a while covered in a mud, as pain builds in my body. My leg is the worst, where Cato sliced me with his sword. There's hot pain searing in the flesh whilst the stings on my neck and chest get more and more painful with each passing hour. Eventually I think I pass out from all the pain.

I fall in an out of consciousness multiple times, watching the light fading from the sky. My lips feel cracked and my entire mouth is dry. I try to roll over, knowing that the stream is not far from me. I try to lift my torso from the ground, and continue trying. I have to purse my lips tight to stop myself from whimpering like a wounded animal. I give up after some while because it is no use. I've lost all of my strength and most of my body is throbbing in pain. I'll try again in a few hours perhaps.

I don't try again. I can't move in a few hours, or a few hours after that. I have no idea what is happening to my body, only that it is bad. Very bad. I stare up at the stars of the arena and wonder how long it will be until I die. How long can I last here in this mud? Maybe until it's down to the last Tribute and they hunt me down. I laugh to myself, my chuckles evolving in to full scale hysterical laughter.

My thirst is the reason I stop. It starts to hurt.

More sleep, less movement. Mouth is still dry, lips are still cracked. I open my eyes when I hear the anthem play. There were no deaths today, but I don't know how many days or deaths I've missed. The anthem brings me back to some kind of awareness of reality. Katniss, is she alive? She has to be alive. Otherwise I might as well use the last of my willpower to just keep rolling until the pain either kills me or I roll up to another Tribute. But no, she has to be alive. She's stronger than me, faster than me. She isn't lying somewhere like I am, dying slowly. I sigh and close my eyes, willing unconsciousness to take me again. This time, I wish it would keep me.

It doesn't. I have no concept of time, no idea how long I sleep or how long I manage to stay awake. The pain seems to dull, but I don't know if that means it's becoming less painful or my body is just starting to numb. I think the latter is more likely because I'm aware of just how bad my wounds are. They're not something you recover from by lying in the mud for a day or two or maybe more.

There's a blast from far off that sounds different from the usual canons. Another blast follows it, but not quite as loud. Definitely not a canon; canons are always the same sound with no alteration in volume. Explosion? That doesn't make sense.

My stomach rumbles, and it aches a little. I haven't eaten in a long time, nor have I drunk anything. I should probably try to rectify that. Maybe if I can just roll over to the stream, I just have to use all of my strength and ignore the pain. It shouldn't be that hard. I can do this; of course I can do this... I don't even get as far as an inch because my body is completely unresponsive.

Once again I give up and lie back to stare at the sky. It looks like afternoon. Another blast distracts me. No, this is a canon for definite. Katniss? No, I refuse to believe she's dead. I refuse to believe I have failed to protect her.

I lie awake for the rest of the afternoon and evening, unable to fall into my usual breaks of unconsciousness. I think a large part of me knows it's because I need to see the Anthem, make sure it's not Katniss' canon that went off. Finally the seal appears in the sky, the anthem playing across the arena. The boy from District 3 and the boy from District 10. Not Katniss. I allow unconsciousness to take me once more.

I wake again the next day, at least I think it is the next day. No more hunger pains in my stomach, more sharp pain in other parts of my body. Why won't death just take me already? I want all of the hurting to be over, all of the not knowing. Once more I drift away into sleep, and for the first time since camouflaging myself I actually dream. Katniss is wearing a red plaid dress and her hair is in two braids, but she isn't five years old. It's the Katniss I know now, a smile lighting up her face as she holds a hand out to me.

"_Come with me Peeta. It's okay." _I want to, oh how I long to get up and take her hand. But I'm stuck in place, laid on the ground. When I don't move she runs over to me instead; I'm surprised when she leans down and kisses me gently.

Trumpets. They bring me up from the sweet, happy dream. Trumpets mean an announcement, a change in plan. I open my eyes to look at the sky, to make sure it's not my imagination. Claudius Templesmith's voice booms over the arena for all to hear, congratulating the six of us that remain. Six. Surely Katniss is in that six. God, I hope so. He continues talking, something about a rule change. He has my full attention now, as much as my almost deluded mind can give him. Both tributes from the same District can be declared winners if they both survive. There's a pause before Claudius repeats the rule change. I stare up at the sky with a frown, taking a moment to comprehend what he is saying.

"Peeta!" Was that my imagination again?

The realisation clicks in my fuddled brain. If Katniss and I are the last two surviving, we can both walk out of here.

"Katniss!" I cry out her name on impulse, in response to what could just be my imagination. Will she come for me? Will she even be able to find me? But of course, this is Katniss. The Hunter Katniss, the Katniss who tracks down animals to feed District Twelve. I'm certain she'll be able to track me down from the last time we saw one another. I just have to lie in wait.

But it is night now; she won't track me at night. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she will find me.


	22. Chapter 22

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Twenty Two

The longer I wait for her, the less hopeful I feel that Katniss is coming for me. She wouldn't leave me, would she? Surely she must know that I'm alive, but maybe she doesn't know that I'm wounded. I cannot sleep today, only stare up and watch the sky as the day grows on. My doubts finally fill me with despair. She's not coming. Maybe she heard how injured I am and has decided it is best to leave me here to die, not trouble herself and waste supplies. She's not coming. I'm going to die in this mud, slowly. It could be my injuries, starvation or dehydration that takes me first.

Is that footsteps? It sounds like somebody is near me. I grow deathly still and silent, waiting for the person to pass by. Instead they are getting closer, moving off behind me up the bank.

"Peeta! Peeta!" I freeze, too shocked to answer her. It is Katniss' voice, close by.

"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" I ask her, and there's a pause. I look through my lids, making sure not to open my eyes properly so that she cannot see me. She's whirling around, looking for me. It's really her. Relief and something that resembles happiness floods through me at just the sight of her, knowing her voice is real and not something in one of my dreams. She's calling for me more quietly now, making her way slowly along the bank. Getting dangerously close.

"Well don't step on me." I mutter when she's a couple of steps away. I open my eyes and look up at her fully, taking in her surprised expression. I laugh heartedly when she gasps in her shock. She's really here, with me. She came to look for me.

"Close your eyes again," she demands in rushed excitement, but I am happy to oblige her so I do so. When I open them again, Katniss is kneeling at my side. My feelings are all a rush and mix, so much that I can't determine exactly how I feel. Only that I want to kiss her now that she is finally here. I want to make sure she never leaves me, to explain that I've been trying to protect her this entire time. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off," she jokes.

"Yes, frosting. The final defence of the dying." I laugh, not so enthusiastically.

"You're not going to die." she tells me determinedly, which is the first I've heard of it.

"Says who?" I ask. I haven't spoken out loud in a few days now, and my throat is dry and sore. Words are somewhat difficult to form.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know."

"So I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me." Wait until she sees my injuries, then I'm sure she will give up hope. Make me comfortable in my last moments. There's a water bottle in her hands and she lifts it to my lips, pouring the water into my mouth. Oh, sweet nectar! The drink is so good, I savour it in my mouth a moment before swallowing the water. It helps ease the pain in my throat.

"Did Cato cut you?" Did he? Oh yes of course, after the tracker jackers.

"Left leg. Up high." I tell her. Leaving out covered in mud, dirty mud. Hot, scorching pain has been throbbing in the cut.

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got." Terrible, painful wounds. I know Katniss' mother is a doctor, but is Katniss herself capable of healing the wounded? Katniss is all business, ready to get me back on my feet.

"Lean down a minute first. Need to tell you something." She leans over me, lowering her ear to my lips ready to hear what I want to tell her. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you feel like it." I whisper to her, unable to stop the smile twitching over my lips. Katniss jerks back, looking shocked for a moment. She laughs, which fills me with joy. Such a beautiful sound.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." Any tension is lifted with our joking. Until Katniss tries to help me to the stream. She soon realises that I'm useless on my own and am unable to move at all, so tries to drag me. Pain explodes in most areas of my body. I purse my lips tightly and try to stay silent as she pulls me inch by agonising inch, but I can't help it. With each movement a small cry escapes me. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this kind of pain. Not only do my wounds hurt but my body is stiff from laying still for so long and all of my muscles ache. Katniss has to give one gigantic tug on my body to pull me free of the plants and mud, which seem to have imprisoned me in their grasp. I can't help the tears that come, gritting my teeth against all the sensations as best I can. But it aches, everything aches.

"Look, Peeta. I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?"

"Excellent," I say through my gritted teeth. "On three. One, two, three." She rolls me over and I'm sure the sound I make is not even human. Are we at the stream yet? "Okay, change of plans. I'm not going to put you all the way in," she tells me.

"No more rolling?" I ask hopefully.

"That's all done." I feel like a child looking to his mother for comfort and reassurance. "Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?"

It takes a while but I just have to lie still whilst Katniss washes the mud and plants from my body, until she is down to my clothes. I have to silently tell my heartbeat to calm down when she unzips my jacket and unbuttons my shirt. She's just getting to my wounds, nothing else. Katniss pulls me back to prop me against one of the boulders, leaving me in a sitting position. It feels much better than staring up at the sky. Katniss digs her fingers into the stinging wounds from the tracker jackers. This isn't as bad as the rolling, but I still wince a little. She applies some kind of leaves to the stings, which feels a million times better. I sigh in relief because at least a few things hurt less. She applies something to my chest where I got burnt – what is that? I watch as she digs through her pack, pulling something else out.

"Swallow these." I do as she says, because I trust her fully. "You must be hungry," Katniss observes, which I concentrate on. There may a pain in my stomach, but I have no urge to eat. Not for quite a while now.

"Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days." I say in wonder, to which she offers me some meat. I wrinkle my nose and shake my head in answer. The smell makes me feel ill.

"Peeta, we need to get some food in you," she tells me sternly.

"It'll just come right back up." All this moving around and drinking water has made me exhausted. "Thanks. I'm much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?" I ask her, hoping she'll let me just pass out for a little while.

"Soon," her voice is soothing like a parent. "I need to look at your leg first." Sure, this is fine. We've done the tracker jacker wounds and the burn, just one more to go. She slowly takes off my boots and shoes, and watch as she inches my trousers down. _Calm down heartbeat, just looking at the wound again._ I keep close eye on her expression as she unveils my wound, can see the evident horror on her face. That's when I know how bad it is, because I don't dare look down at the actual wound.

"Pretty awful, huh?"

"So-so," she shrugs and I almost laugh at her pretence. "You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines. First thing is to clean it well." She sounds mostly certain, which comforts me a little bit. I stay silent as Katniss carries on working, washing down my leg. "Why don't we give it some air and then..." she stares at the wound, her brain working in overdrive. That answers my wondering about whether mother passed down her knowledge to daughter.

"And then you'll patch it up?" I suggest, looking at her sympathetically.

"That's right. In the meantime, you eat these." She hands me some dried pear halves and wanders away. I stare at them a moment and contemplate, but I know if I don't eat them Katniss will only persist. Possibly force feed me if I continue to refuse. I chew on them unenthusiastically.

"We're going to have to experiment some," she finally admits. Experiment. On my fatal wound. That sounds promising. She presses more leaves against my leg, the same kind that she used on the tracker jacker wounds. I don't question her, this is us experimenting after all. Her face begins to pale, her wall of no emotion coming down.

"Katniss?" She looks up, grey eyes meeting mine. I don't speak out loud but mouth to her, "how about that kiss?" She laughs, which is something I'm not sure I expect.

"Something wrong?" I put on the innocence.

"I...I'm no good at this. I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus. Euh!" She groans, following with another groan after applying a second round of leaves.

"How do you hunt?" I quiz her, because surely all the kills can't be clean.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this. Although for all I know, I am killing you."

"Can you speed it up a little?" I ask her. I wouldn't mind at all, death would be quite welcome after the past couple days, and death with Katniss at my side would be even better.

"No. Shut up and eat your pears." I nibble on the last two dried pears , continuing to watch Katniss. I want to reach out and touch her, just to be absolutely positive that she is real. I've had so many hallucinations and dreams of her in the past couple of days, I'm not convinced this isn't another.

"What next, Dr Everdeen?"

"Maybe I'll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?" I shrug, leaving it all up to Katniss. She does all of that and I can see she feels better with the wound wrapped up. Certainly not one for the gore.

She pulls out a backpack and hands it to me, which is confusing. "Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts."

"Oh, I don't care if you see me." It's only half true. I do care a little of her seeing all of me, but not as much as I would care a stranger seeing me. I don't think I'd be as comfortable as I am with Portia, but enough.

"You're just like the rest of my family. I care, all right?" She turns away from me. I force my stiff limbs into movement and pull down my undershorts, throwing them into the stream for Katniss to clean. I use the backpack to cover my manhood from Katniss. I find it quite odd that this girl who is probably considered one of the most lethal tributes in the arena can't even bear to see others naked, or blood and pus.

"You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person," I comment, watching as she beats my shorts between some rocks. "I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all." That could have been quite an amusing sight, seeing Katniss so very uncomfortable whilst trying to be helpful.

"What's he sent you so far?"

"Not a thing," I say and pause, realising what she means. Haymitch has sent her a gift, maybe more. I'm not sure how to feel about it, because I know we'd agreed that I wish to protect Katniss. I just didn't realise that meant leaving me to die slowly on my own. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," does she sound embarrassed? Perhaps regretting that she's brought it up. "Oh, and some bread."

"I always knew you were his favourite," I try to shrug it off. But it still hurts a little. Admittedly not as much as my leg.

"Please, he can't stand being in the same room as me."

"Because you're just alike," I mutter, not sure if she can hear me.

Katniss doesn't say much more, and I slowly doze off. Not a state of painful unconsciousness, but just sleep. It's amazing, the effect she can have.


	23. Chapter 23

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_Because this one is so short, the next chapter will be published today. _

Chapter Twenty Three

Someone is shaking me awake. I expect to see Portia, but when I open my eyes it is Katniss looking down on me. I find this preferable.

"Peeta, we've got to go now." She tells me rather urgently. My half asleep, fevered brain doesn't comprehend what she means.

"Go? Go where?"

"Away from here. Downstream, maybe. Somewhere we can hide you until you're stronger." I don't argue with her, forcing my body to move. When I stand on my left leg I have to grit my teeth tightly, stopping myself from making any noise. I do enjoy the concern that flickers across Katniss' face, though.

"Come on. You can do this." She reassures me. I nod my head quickly and give myself a silent prep talk. I can do this; of course I can do this. I can't allow myself to look weak now, not whilst Katniss is here. Or you know, the whole world is watching. So I take one step, and another, and another. I have to lean heavily on Katniss as we stumble along downstream. Well, I stumble while Katniss stops me from falling flat on my face. We don't make it very far. With each step the world tunes out more and more. I try to keep going, telling my legs to carry on moving forward in my head. Katniss notices anyway of course and makes me sit down, putting my head between my legs to recover.

Katniss is calculating the area and figuring out a plan as I concentrate on not dying. Once the world has set itself the right side up in my brain Katniss has me on the move again, this time taking me up the bank and towards some rocks. Just this small walk has me panting with effort, as if I'd just run a mile. The temperature has also dropped a great deal, so much that shivers continuously run through my body.

I stand there feeling useless however Katniss sets up the cave, making it more comfortable. When she tucks me into her sleeping bag, I expect this is the kind of thing a mother might do with their child. A ritual my mother and I had never shared. I refuse the food she offers and keep my eyes trained on her face as she works at the entrance. Her beautiful, straight, determined face. Occasionally she looks over at me hesitantly but averts her eyes quickly upon noticing that I am still staring at her. After a while she tears down the vines she had set up in frustration.

"Katniss," she comes over to me and brushes the hair from my face. It feels good. "Thanks for finding me." I'm a hindrance to her and reduce her chances of winning this Game, but I can't help feeling entirely relieved that she is here.

"You would have found me if you could." She places her hand against my forehead gently, concern creasing her brow.

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back-"

"Don't talk like that." She cuts me off. "I didn't drain all that pus for nothing."

"I know. But just in case I don't-"

"No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it." She doesn't let me continue, even pressing her fingers against my lips to quiet me.

"But I-" She kisses me. My brain goes into a confused overdrive. Katniss. Lips. Kissing. Me. Cave. Dream? Before it can even register fully in my brain, Katniss pulls away.

"You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" I give in, not to mention I'm still too befuddled.

"All right," I whisper. She steps out of the cave and leaves me to try and sort through my brain.

Instead I seem to fall asleep.

Katniss kisses me to wake me, which is startling. Why is she suddenly so affectionate? Not that I mind, of course. It's just odd. She's never shown any intentions of kissing me before, and here I get two kisses in the space of ten minutes.

"Peeta, look what Haymitch has sent you," she says with an almost accomplished grin, holding up what looks like a pot.

"What is it?" I ask drowsily.

"Broth, something good to eat."

"I don't want it." I lower myself further into the sleeping bag just to elaborate on my point.

"Please, Peeta. You need to eat." Katniss tries to coax me out, pulling the sleeping bag away from my face. This continues for some time. Katniss uses different methods for getting me to eat the broth, consisting of threatening and begging. But the most effective is when she offers to kiss me for every sip of broth I take. Her offer gives me incentive to eat it, in a lot of sips.

My full stomach and all the moving of the afternoon has me drained of all my energy. Warm in the sleeping bag and knowing Katniss is nearby, I'm able to fall asleep easily.


	24. Chapter 24

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

****_You asked, and I listened! This was supposed to be two chapter, but I merged them together to make an extra long one for you all! Hopefully my future chapter will also be longer. _

Chapter Twenty Four

I wake and glance around me, a little confused in my sleepiness. I'm in a cave, and able to move. There are no stomach pains, not as much pain elsewhere, I'm not staring up at the sky. Of course. Katniss. Remembering the afternoon before makes me look around more frantically. She isn't here. I'm filled with a deep sense of dread. Has she left me here to die? No, she wouldn't do that. Would she? I cast the doubts to the back of my mind, realising how ridiculous they are.

But if she hadn't left me of her own violation, then there was only one other explanation. Cato and Clove are probably still out in the arena, blood thirsty and determined for victory. Could they have tracked us back to our little cave and dragged Katniss out in the night? It makes sense that they would leave me upon noticing my state. I am no use, and I am definitely not a threat.

Slowly I try to sit up. Most of my body hasn't recovered yet so it's painful and most certainly not easy. Halfway through my efforts, she appears at the cave entrance. All of my tension melts away.

"I woke up and you were gone. I was worried about you." Katniss laughs, lowering me back to the floor.

"You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" She asks.

"I thought Cato and Clove might have found you. They like to hunt at night." I tell her seriously.

"Clove? Which one is that?" Clove, which one is she? The faces and names seem to muddle in my brain for a moment before I can find my way to some sense. I don't seem to be in a right mind at all, from the blood poisoning? Or is this some other illness that has riddled my brain?

"The girl from District Two. She's still alive, right?"

"Yes, there's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface. That's what I nicknamed the girl from five. How do you feel?"

"Better than yesterday," I admit. Although my limbs are still a little stiff and my leg is unbearable. "This is an enormous improvement over the mud. Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you." It's an odd feeling, just saying what I feel to Katniss. Here in our little cave I forget the cameras are watching and listening, it is just Katniss and I. My feelings are no longer buried beneath years of sly glances and wishing I could just say hello.

Katniss reaches out to touch my cheek and I catch her hand in mine, holding her hand to my lips. A reassurance that she is really here, that I am not laid in the mud and dreaming a pleasant dream.

"No more kisses for you until you've eaten," Katniss reprimands me, reaching over to help me into an almost sitting position. Kisses? Oh of course, there had been plenty of kisses the day before. My cheeks flush a little at the memory, although I don't understand how I could ever forget that I had kisses Katniss Everdeen. Perhaps this fever is worse than I thought. She makes me eat some kind of fruit mush, then offers the groosling. But I refuse, certain that I won't be able to handle solid food. Broth and fruit mush I am capable of eating. I look at Katniss properly since I woke and notice the dark circles under her eyes, how her movements are ever so sluggish. Other people probably wouldn't notice because she isn't particularly slow, but other people haven't spent years admiring Katniss from afar.

"You didn't sleep." I observe.

"I'm all right," she lies.

"Sleep now. I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens." I assure her, but she still hesitates. "Katniss, you can't stay up forever."

"All right," she gives in. "But just for a few hours. Then you wake me."

I watch the world outside our cave whilst Katniss lays down near my side, one hand laid upon her bow. "Go to sleep," I say quietly, brushing my fingers across her forehead and sweeping her hair aside. I continue stroking her hair whilst she falls asleep, watching in fascination as all her tension and the emotionless wall falls away. She looks so peaceful.

After a few hours I know I should wake Katniss up, but everything is quiet and I like the way she looks when she sleeps. Nothing is happening, so I leave her be. And sleep she does, well into the afternoon. When she opens her eyes and sits up she seems to know instantly that I hadn't listened to her.

"Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours."

"For what? Nothings going on here. Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot," I joke. Of course my comment makes her scowl, which only makes me grin. She suddenly looks concerned, her hand coming up to press against my cheek.

"Have you been drinking?" She asks, picking up one of the water containers.

"Of course," I lie, but she looks doubtful whilst weighing the canteens in her hand. She makes me drink two litres, along with some fever pills. I sit and watch whilst she begins tending to my wounds, starting with the smaller ones. I keep my eyes locked on her expression when she undresses my leg. I see it in her face. It's bad.

"Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone." She says, her voice unsteady. I find it cute that she's still trying to reassure me. But I can see the wound myself. I can see those red streaks crawling up my leg and I know what it is.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss. Even if my mother isn't a healer."

"You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta. They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win." I smile, rather sarcastically.

"Yes, that's a good plan." I say with as much honesty as I can. I'm sure she can see the flaws in this plan herself, because I can barely walk. How am I supposed to hold my own against the other Tributes? I can't just count on Katniss to look after me until all the other Tributes are dead.

"You have to eat. Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup."

"Don't light a fire. It's not worth it."

"We'll see," Katniss ignores me. I decide not to argue with her, knowing that it will be no use. She leaves the cave with her soup making ingredients and leaves me to my own devices. It's hot, but cooler in our cave where we are out of the sun. I decide to lie down, stretching myself on top of the sleeping bag, waiting for Katniss to return. The pain hasn't diminished, but I can't tell if it's worse or better than before. It's rather difficult telling what is up from down. I still feel feverish. Am I shivering or sweating?

It still makes me feel better to see Katniss' face when she returns, smooths out some of the pain from my face. She puts a wet cloth on my forehead, at least I presume it is wet. It just feels like cloth on my forehead, does nothing to make me feel more cool.

"Do you want anything?" She asks, concern lacing her tone. That's nice.

"No, thank you." I pause and change my mind. "Wait, yes. Tell me a story."

"A story? What about?" What do I want to hear? Except for just have Katniss talk to me.

"Something happy. Tell me about the happiest day you can remember." She huffs at me in exasperation. There's a long pause, which is most likely Katniss picking through whatever stories she might have.

"Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?" She suddenly asks. I shake my head and watch her expectantly, getting comfortable for the story.

More trumpets means another announcement. Katniss is at attention instantly, jumping up to the mouth of the cave. Claudius Templesmith's voice again, all over the arena. He's inviting the rest of the Tributes to a feast. A bloodbath. He adds that each person needs something desperately, to entice them further. I look at Katniss' back, knowing what they'll place in a backpack for us. Medicine to save my life.

I get to my feet with a lot of effort, limping across the cave to where Katniss is staring out at the arena. I grip her shoulder, startling her to look back at me.

"You're not risking your life for me."

"Who said I was?" She asks nonchalantly.

"So you're not going?" I ask, to make sure we're on the same page. I won't allow her to go, no matter what. She has to survive and whether I die or manage it to the end does not matter. I can't go back to a life in District Twelve without Katniss, because that would be an empty life. I can't let her die trying to save me.

"Of course I'm not going. Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid," She tells me, taking my arms and and leading me back to the sleeping bag. "I'll let them fight it out. We'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there." Trying to reassure me, not looking me in the eyes.

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you survived this long." I put on a mimic of her voice. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler, though. Of course I'm not going." I shake my head at her. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin."

Her face flushes and anger flashes across her entire face. "All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!"

"I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure." I say stubbornly, because then her attempts will be for nothing. And I know how she'll feel the need to protect me, for the sake of my family and friends back home, or whatever other reason. For her own sake, possibly?

"You won't get a hundred metres from here on that leg." She has a point.

"Then I'll drag myself. You go and I'm going, too."

"What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?"

"I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go." Not entirely something I can promise, but anything to keep her here and away from the bloodbath that will ensue. Her jaw clenches as she tries to mull over the problem we're having.

"Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup, no matter how disgusting it is!" She snaps, the anger still there in her expression.

"Agreed. Is it ready?" I don't want to eat the soup, the idea makes me start to feel ill already. But I don't have much of a choice if I'm to keep Katniss here with me.

"Wait here." She leaves the cave and comes back not much later with a pot of soup, sitting it down in front of me. I eat all of the soup, scraping the remnants from the bottom of the pot to show enthusiasm. I don't taste much of it, and I'm not sure my stomach entirely agrees.

"Very nice! You make some delicious soup, Katniss." I'm a better liar than her. In response she gives me some more fever medicine.

I sit back in silence when she disappears to wash up. She returns quickly enough, announcing a treat of more berry mush. How wonderful. But I don't protest, opening my mouth ready for her to feed me. The mush tastes different from before, more sweet. "They're very sweet." I comment.

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?" She asks me, another spoonful going into my mouth.

"No, but they taste familiar. Sugar berries?" There's a resemblance to the berries she fed me before, but I don't think I've heard of these berries.

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild." Another mouthful of these odd, sweet berries.

"They're sweet as syrup." I muse out loud. Syrup... she'd been outside, out of my site. Enough time for Haymitch to send a gift down to her. Syrup, I'd had this taste before. When I was having trouble sleeping, a bout of nightmares that lasted weeks. My father went to Katniss' mother for some help. Sleeping medicine. I look at Katniss in shock. "Syrup." Katniss' hand clasps over my mouth with the mush still in there, she pinches my nose and forces me to swallow the mush. I knew it would come down to force-feeding.

When she releases me, I frantically push my fingers down my throat in an attempt to throw up. I need to get it out, but I can already feel unconsciousness picking at the fringes of my mind. Already losing myself to sleep. I feel betrayed, and then I feel nothing.


	25. Chapter 25

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_I really am treating you guys tonight! But I'm feeling good. Gonna have to get writing so that I can keep ahead! Last one for tonight my lovelies. _

Chapter Twenty Five

I startle awake with Katniss' name on my lips. I'm worried for her, but why? What happened? My head feels foggy, but clearer than it has been in days. No more fever addled brain, no more harsh pain all over my body. My limbs still feel somewhat stiff from the lack of movement recently. I glance around the cave frantically, but there she is at my side. She's curled up asleep, the sight of her making me relax. No need to worry. Then I see the blood. The sight of it makes me remember. The announcement of the feast. Katniss drugging me. She must have gone to the feast, must have been harmed.

"Katniss!" I gasp, shooting up into a sitting position.

I turn her over gently, so that I can see her face fully. There's a cut on her forehead and blood, so much blood. It's forming a pool around her head and has already stained some of her face. I press my shaking fingers against her neck to check her pulse, my own heart racing. But no, she's still alive. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief and grab her backpack. Digging deep for the medical kit, I pull out the bandages. But I can't just bandage it, look what happened to my leg. Instead I rip off a piece and douse it in water, gently dabbing at Katniss' forehead. The dirt and dry blood I manage to wash away, but the wound only pumps out more. I work quickly to bandage her head, bounding it tight to help stem the flow of blood.

A clap of thunder makes me jump, the sound of heavy rain hammering against rocks immediately following. The Gamemaker's have organised a thunderstorm, but for who? Something wet hits my cheek. I wipe it away and check my hand, but it is only water. Rain is dripping into our cave. Didn't Katniss have a plastic sheet? Yes, there across the room. I get up slowly, groaning as my legs cry a little in pain. I stretch my legs to try and work out the stiffness and ease them back into movement. It takes a while to tuck the plastic sheet across the roof of our cave, tucking it into corners but we finally have a dry hidey hole.

The mouth of the cave is closed off, something that Katniss must have done before leaving for the feast. I make a mental note to be mad about that later, when I'm less worried about her safety. I turn on my aching legs, taking in the scene before me. Still some blood on the floor of the cave and a hypodermic needle lying on the floor, next to a small bag with the number twelve on it. Carefully, I put the used needle in the small bag, tossing it aside and out of the way.

After unzipping the sleeping bag, I tenderly pick Katniss up and lay her down on it. I pull off her wet boots, only to find her socks underneath are soaked through. Those I also leave to the side, hopefully to dry out. I put her legs in the sleeping bag and zip it up, hoping to keep off the cold. The temperature has dropped dramatically, but it isn't too bad in here.

I spend some time cleaning up the floor of the cave, washing away all of her blood and once all that is done I pay attention to my growling stomach. There's still some groosling left and I nibble at the edges of a piece. But that isn't enough so I continue, until I've wolfed down three pieces of it. I feel full after that and return to Katniss. I sit at her side, brushing her hair through my fingers for a long time before I finally pluck up the courage to check my leg. It looks a lot better than when I had last seen it. No more dark red veins crawling up my leg, although there is still some swelling. I decided to leave it, because there is no blood or pus leaking out. The anthem begins playing and I move across to the mouth of the cave, glancing up at the sky. Clove's face flares up across the sky and all returns to normal. Clove dead? I glance quickly at Katniss and the bandage around her head. Most likely from a knife, but had Katniss killed Clove? I ease my way into the sleeping bag, being very careful with Katniss and her head. I kiss her cheek gently and gaze at her for a while until my eyes won't stay open any longer.

When I wake the next day Katniss is still unconscious. I check her pulse again, just to reassure myself. I check our food supply, which is beginning to run low. I eat a handful of raisins over the afternoon, but I'm stuck inside the cave. There's a lot less swelling on my leg wound, which looks promising. Rain is still hammering on the cave roof, thunder clapping loudly above our heads. I can do nothing but sit beside Katniss and hope she wakes.

I use the time to try and sort through my memories and thoughts. The fever I had suffered has messed my memories up somewhat, so I'm not sure what exactly was real or not real. Kissing Katniss. Had that really happened? My stomach flutters and I glance down at Katniss' peaceful face, brushing my fingers through her messed up hair. I think it had been real. She had kissed me. I can't help grinning to myself, trying to pull up that particular memory. I can't remember it very well though, which is highly disappointing. I begin to wonder how long I have been sitting here, is it morning or afternoon? I glance down at Katniss again, noticing that a spot of blood was already showing on the bandage. But just a very small spot, making me think that perhaps the bleeding isn't as bad.

Head injuries can be serious, but surely a cut like that wouldn't do lasting damage? The doubt creeps into my mind, gnawing at my assurance that she will wake. I find myself checking her pulse every few minutes. Katniss has been lying still for so long, so much so that she completely startles me by suddenly jerking her leg.

I glance down and notice her eyes are moving frantically behind her eyelids. I stroke her cheek gently, in case it's a bad dream that she needs soothing out of. She licks her lips, and I'm certain she's waking up.

"Katniss? Katniss, can you hear me?" Her eyes snap open, glancing around her frantically for a brief moment as she gathers her bearing. I slide down into her view, and I'm sure her expression relaxes when she sees me. Or is that my imagination?

"Peeta," she breathes, her grey eyes locking onto mine.

"Hey. Good to see your eyes again."

"How long have I been out?" She asks. _Too long._ I reply in my head.

"Not sure," I say out loud. "I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood. I think it's stopped finally, but I wouldn't sit up or anything." She raises a hand to touch her head where I had bandaged it. I grab a bottle of water, lowering it to her lips and she drinks most of the bottle.

"You're better." She mutters.

"Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick. By this morning, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone."

"Did you eat?" She asks, which almost makes me laugh. Here she lies with a possibly serious head wound, but still concerned for my safety.

"I'm sorry to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling before I realised it might have to last a while. Don't worry, I'm back on a strict diet."

"No, it's good," she reassures me. "You need to eat. I'll go hunting soon." Not with that wound.

"Not too soon, all right? You just let me take care of you for a while." I like this idea, looking after her. I dig out some groosling and raisins to feed to her, making sure she takes a gulp of water between every few bites. Once she's eaten enough I rub the cold out of her feet because the sleeping bag hadn't been enough. To make sure they stay warm, I wrap her feet in my jacket before helping her back into the sleeping bag.

"Yours boots and socks are still damp, and the weather's not helping much." As if responding to me, there's another clap of thunder and strike of lightning. "I wonder what brought on this storm? I mean, who's the target?" I ponder out loud.

"Cato and Thresh," Katniss answers me immediately. "Foxface will be in her den somewhere, and Clove...she cut me and then..." Katniss trails off, unable to finish.

"I know Clove's dead. I saw it in the sky last night. Did you kill her?"

"No. Thresh broke her skull with a rock." I hide my disgust, pushing away any mental images of Clove with her skull caved in. Of how that could have easily been Katniss.

"Lucky he didn't catch you, too."

"He did. But he let me go." I snap my gaze to Katniss' face in shock, and some confusion. She sees it and begins regaling me with what had happened with her after the tracker jackers. How she had teamed up with the small Rue and blown up the Career's supplies. I can't help but smirk at this, and remember hearing some strange explosions when I had been caked in mud. I grow a little concerned when she tells me she cannot hear out of one ear, but surely that's something the Capitol can fix? Finally she comes to how Rue died, how Katniss saw her die and avenged her by killing Marvel. I'm taken with a sudden urge to take her in my arms and comfort her, but it doesn't seem like the thing to do. Would she reject me now that I'm not full of fever and blood poisoning? My stomach drops at the idea that she could have kissed me only because I was sick. What if that is it now? Maybe I'll never get a real kiss from her.

"He let you go because he didn't want to owe you anything?" I ask. I'm grateful, because it means I have Katniss here with me. But it still seems odd.

"Yes. I don't expect you to understand it. You've always had enough. But if you'd lived in the Seam, I wouldn't have to explain." Of course, because I don't live in the Seam I must be living the life of luxury with no idea of the hardships people have to suffer. Knowing that Katniss thinks something of the sort frustrates me greatly.

"And don't try. Obviously I'm too dim to get it."

"It's like the bread," she suddenly says. "How I never seem to get over owing you for that."

"The bread? What? From when we were kids?" She had just risked her life in order to save mine, but apparently owed me because I threw some bread to her when we were younger. "I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."

"But you didn't know me. We had never even spoken," _Not for want of trying, _I add silently in my head. "Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then. Why did you, anyway?" She asks and I look at her fully, because surely she isn't serious? She must know why.

"Why? You know why." I say and she shakes her head a little. Frustrating, so frustrating. After all this, she still thinks it's for the sponsors. "Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing." I sigh.

"Haymitch? What's he got to do with it?" She asks.

"Nothing." I reply quickly. Because how on earth could I even start explaining when she can't even see the feelings right in front of her. It only sets in the idea that she had kissed me only because I was sick. My heart suddenly feels heavy. "So, Cato and Thresh, huh? I guess it's too much to hope that they'll simultaneously destroy each other?" And then this would be over, and we could return home. Back to normal. Back to watching her from afar.

"I think we would like Thresh. I think he'd be our friend back in District Twelve." _Our._ Yet, we hadn't even been friends before the games. Is that what we are now?

"Then let's hope Cato kills him, so we don't have to." Is all I say.


	26. Chapter 26

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

Chapter Twenty Six

I notice tears in Katniss' eyes and am overcome with concern, perhaps her head wound is troubling her. "What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?" I think we still have some painkillers left, but I'm not sure if you're supposed to give painkillers to someone with a head wound. I'm sure one or two would be okay, though.

"I want to go home, Peeta," she says, reminding me of a child.

"You will. I promise," I tell her, leaning down to plant a small and gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I want to go home now," she adds and it starts to make me feel homesick. How much more do we have to suffer?

"Tell you what. You go back to sleep and dream of home. And you'll be there for real before you know it." I hope. I don't wish to be stuck in this arena for much longer, I want to give up and have it all end. But I can't. I have to make sure Katniss gets home to her mother and sister, to all those people who depend on her in District Twelve. I ignore the thoughts of Gale.

"Okay," Katniss whispers. "Wake me if you want me to keep watch."

"I'm good and rested, thanks to you and Haymitch. Besides, who knows how long this will last?" I add, thinking of how long it will be before reality comes to bite us in the rear. To remind us it's not over and there are still three people out there who have to die before we can return home. To remind Katniss that she doesn't believe my feelings for her, that she probably doesn't have those same feelings for me.

Whilst Katniss sleeps I set my thoughts on home, something I had been avoiding thinking about. I wonder if Gareth or Lukail have been helping father out, how business is going. Perhaps more people will be buying from the bakery in sympathy, to remind my family that the District is rooting for me as well as Katniss. Mother wouldn't allow them to shut the bakery of course, it would cost too much. Not that I ever expected their lives to stop short while I am in the arena. People have to carry on, even if they're daughter or son has been reaped. The people of District Twelve cannot afford to have days off.

The rain gets heavier, becoming a downpour and I realise that the plastic sheeting doesn't quite cover all of the ceiling. I have to reposition it so that the rain doesn't get on Katniss, moving the broth pot to catch some of it. As the sky darkens outside the cave, I finally wake Katniss up. My stomach is growling but I daren't eat on my own, I have to make sure there's enough for the both of us. When she wakes, she sits up slowly and looks better than earlier. We get out the last of our food supply, which there isn't much of. Two pieces of groosling, some roots and a handful of dried fruit. This isn't going to last us long, but can I hope for Katniss to be ready to hunt any time soon? I hope the storm ends soon, though. I enjoy it in this cave with Katniss, but we can't survive forever in here.

"Should we try and ration it?"

"No, let's just finish it. The Groosling's getting old anyway, and the last thing we need it to get sick off spoiled food." She tells me whilst dividing the food into two piles. I try to make the small meal last but without the fever I feel so hungry and all is finished in a couple of minutes. I am still hungry afterwards.

"Tomorrow's a hunting day," Katniss announces, which I'm somewhat grateful for. Yet there's still that niggling doubt that she might not be up to that, she might need more time to recover.

"I won't be much help with that," I admit. "I've never hunted before." I wouldn't call catching the rabbits with the Careers _hunting_. More stumbling through the forest and happening on some animals that were easy prey.

"I'll kill and you cook. And you can always gather."

"I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," I sigh. Bread would be easy, bread I know.

"The bread they sent me from District Eleven was still warm," Katniss sighs in pleasure at the memory. She holds out some leaves to me, "here, chew these." Mint leaves, don't taste so bad.

I don't pay much attention to the projection in the sky because there were no deaths today, which means Cato and Thresh are still out there. And somewhere the girl from District Five is lurking. What had Katniss nicknamed her? Foxface.

"Where did Thresh go? I mean, what's on the far side of the circle?" Katniss cuts through my thoughts. I cast my mind back to when I had been with the Careers, and remembered someone mention Thresh disappearing in the opposite direction. Remember looking over at that creepy, empty space. It seems like an ordinary field but full of such high grass and grain, where anything can hide easily. It always felt like you could wander into that field and just disappear.

"A field." I answer Katniss. "As far as you can see it's full of grasses as high as my shoulders. I don't know, maybe some of them are grain. There are patches of different colors. But there are no paths."

"I bet some of them are grain. I bet Thresh knows which ones, too. Did you go in there?" She asks. I almost shudder at the idea.

"No. Nobody really wanted to track Thresh down in that grass. It has a sinister feeling. Every time I look at that field, all I can think of are hidden things. Snakes, and rabid animals, and quicksand. There could be anything in there."

"Maybe there is a bread bush in that field. Maybe that's why Thresh looks better fed now than when we started the Games," Katniss ponders out loud.

"Either that or he's got very generous sponsors. I wonder what we'd have to do to get Haymitch to send us some bread." Just a little bread and my stomach might be more settled until we can hunt again. Katniss reaches out and takes hold of my hand. It surprises me, because since the Feast we had barely shown any affection towards one another. Well, not whilst Katniss has been awake.

"Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out," Katniss says with a slight smirk. That reminds me of my mental note to be mad.

"Yeah, about that," I interlock my fingers with hers. "Don't try something like that again." I try to make my voice stern.

"Or what?" She asks.

"Or... or..." I open my mouth but close it again, shaking my head slightly. "Just give me a minute." A grin creeps across Katniss' face.

"What's the problem?"

"The problem is we're both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing," I tell her.

"I did do the right thing."

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" I grip her hand a little tighter and anger creeps into my tone. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?" Now my voice is stern. And truthful, so very truthful. I can't have her die, especially not for me. I can't go back to District Twelve if she dies, life will seem so much bleaker.

"Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who... who worries about... what it would be like if..." She fumbles and I stare at her for a moment, my mind turning in a whirl.

"If what, Katniss?" I ask her softly, loosening my grip on her hand.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," She says, avoiding my gaze. Another lie? I can't figure out whether that would be something Haymitch would say or not. He's the one, who told me I had to declare my love in front of all of Panem, so why would he tell Katniss to keep off the subject?

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," moving in closer to her. I lower my lips to hers gently, and there are so warm and soft. She doesn't hesitate before kissing me back and it feels so good. I can feel this kiss fully, rather than those short quick kisses that my brain couldn't register before. There's the usual fluttering in my stomach that only Katniss can stir in me, and I feel hungry for more kisses. As I pull away slowly, I notice more blood spread across the bandage on her head. I kiss her gently on the tip of her nose.

"I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it's bedtime anyway." I check her socks and slip them onto her feet to keep her warmer. She insists I put my jacket back on, which I'm glad for. The temperature has dropped once again, no doubt for Cato and Thresh.

"I'll take first watch, you get some sleep." Katniss says.

"Oh no, that's all right. You should sleep." But she insists on going first. I refuse to go to sleep unless she gets in the sleeping bag with me; it's too cold for her to sit by my side. We've already had a blood poisoning; we don't need pneumonia as well. We settle in the sleeping bag and I pull her head down so that she's resting on my arm, wrapping my other arm around her protectively. It feels comfortable, and right. I close my eyes and for a while I'm unable to sleep, my mind is reeling. Thinking of that kiss, what I consider to be our first real kiss. I finally fall asleep with a smile at the edges of my lips.


	27. Chapter 27

The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View

_So guys! I got an idea at 6am last night for a possible one shot! It's Peeta's point of view again, but at the end of Catching Fire. It's of Peeta waking up in the Capitol medical room for the first time. Let me know if you'd like me to refine the chapter, and post it up for you!_

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

Katniss wakes me some hours after I fall asleep, and promises to find us a tree so we can sleep in peace the next day. But the weather stays as is, possibly even getting worse. Thunder rumbles, and sometimes I'm sure there are times the ground even shakes. We have no food left, so I suggest that I go out and try to scavenge us something to eat. Katniss doesn't let me, convincing me that it would be pointless in the storm. I sigh and give up, but as the day grows on the pain in my stomach intensifies. I'm sure it's the same for Katniss, also. We stay huddled in our sleeping bag, wrapped around one another to conserve heat. After a lot of silence, Katniss finally speaks.

"Peeta. You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" She asks which really throws me off my guard. I don't have to think about the answer to her question, because I know instantly. A memory that is burned into my mind.

"Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school." I fall into the memory, of the first day I noticed Katniss Everdeen. "We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair... it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

"Your father? Why?" She asks, and I remember that she doesn't know about our parents.

"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" I tell her, remembering the lost look in my father's eyes.

"What? You're making that up!" She exclaims in disbelief.

"No, true story. And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.'"

"That's true. They do. I mean, they did" Katniss says, looking somewhat startled at this revelation.

"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent." I say, smiling at the memory of a young Katniss stood up on that stool, singing with such an innocent passion.

"Oh, please!" Katniss laughs.

"No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew – just like your mother – I was a goner. Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you." And failed horribly.

"Without success," Katniss says.

"Without success," I nod. "So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck."

"You have a... remarkable memory." Katniss hesitates.

"I remember everything about you," I admit, tucking some hair behind her ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"I am now." I almost laugh. Well there isn't much else to pay attention to with the both of us stuck in this cave.

"Well, I don't have much competition here."

"You don't have much competition anywhere," she almost breathes. She leans towards me and there's the fluttering of my stomach again, the hammering of my heart as I realise this is real. Our lips just brush against one another when we are interrupted by a clunk outside, causing us both to jump. Katniss instantly has her bow at the ready, arrow poised to fly. Yet everything outside is silent again, apart from the storm. Slowly I get up and look out between the rocks cautiously. There's nobody there waiting for us, but there is something else. I cheer and slide out into the rain; picking up the basket and handing it back in to Katniss. I have to wriggle to get back in.

"I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve," I say brightly.

"I guess so." I notice her eyes fall instantly on the stew, my stomach growling at the smell.

"We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn't even starving then."

"You're right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!" I know the feeling, but we take it slow for the sake of our stomachs. Once we're finished with our servings, Katniss announces that she still wants more.

"Me too. Tell you what. We wait an hour; if it stays down, then we get another serving." I suggest.

"Agreed. It's going to be a long hour."

"Maybe not that long. What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you?" I ask jokingly.

"I don't remember the last part," she replies, with a slight blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, that's right. That's what _I_ was thinking." I say. "Scoot over. I'm freezing." She makes room and I get into the sleeping bag with her, leaning back against the cave wall. Katniss rests her head on my shoulder and I wrap my arms around her. Again, it feels good. I can't help grinning to myself. This is what I've wanted since I was five years old. To be able to hold Katniss, to kiss her. And here we are.

"So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?"

"No, I noticed just about every girl," _I am just a human guy, after all._ "But none of them made a lasting impression but you," I admit. Nobody ever stood out like Katniss, there was anybody I wanted to be with more in the world.

"I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam."

"Hardly. But I couldn't care less." Not that my mother ever knew. My father seemed to understand, and never told me I should choose someone else, someone more suitable. I'm sure my mother is giving the poor old man some grief back home. "Anyway, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from the Victor's Village."

"But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!"

"Ah, that'll be nice," I chuckle, and tighten my arms around her to pull her into me. "You and me and Haymitch. Very cosy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales." I joke.

"I told you, he hates me!" Laughter bursts from Katniss, which makes me smile.

"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you."

"He's never sober!" Katniss protests.

"That's right. Who am I thinking of? Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run when he set you on fire. On the other hand, Haymitch... well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you."

"I thought you said I was his favorite."

"He hates me more. I don't think people in general are his sort of thing." I wonder what Haymitch is thinking, watching all of this. If he can even comprehend what is happening through his liquor filled mind.

"How do you think he did it?" She suddenly asks.

"Who? Did what?"

"Haymitch. How do you think he won the Games?"

I fall silent as I contemplate on her question. Of course, Haymitch hadn't been a drunk when he competed in the Hunger Games. He had been a young, strong man. Although not exceptionally strong, like say Cato or Thresh. I doubt he would have gotten many sponsors being from District Twelve and not considered particularly handsome. There's really only one conclusion.

"He outsmarted the others," I say. Katniss nods and then doesn't say any more on the matter.

We don't last an hour for another serving of stew, I don't argue with Katniss when she announces she's going to have some more. The anthem plays whilst she's serving up our portions, and I stare at the sky through the cracks in the rocks.

"There won't be anything to see tonight. Nothing's happened or we would've heard a canon."

"Katniss," I say quietly, trying to draw her attention to the face in the sky. But she's too engrossed in our stew.

"What? Should we split another roll, too?" She asks.

"Katniss," I say again, but she doesn't seem to answer. I wonder if she knows what's coming but doesn't want to face it.

"I'm going to split one. But I'll save the cheese for tomorrow." I stare at her until she finally looks at me. "What?" She asks.

"Thresh is dead." I tell her.

"He can't be." She denies it.

"They must have fired the canon during the thunder and we missed it."

"Are you sure? I mean, its pouring buckets out there. I don't know how you can see anything." Denial. She pushes me aside and looks out at the sky herself, just in time to see Thresh's face before the image blinks out. She slumps down against the rocks, seeming to forget about second servings.

"You all right?" I ask gently. She just shrugs and starts hugging herself, I can almost see her manually shutting those walls around her emotions.

"It's just... if we didn't win... I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue."

"Yeah, I know. But this means we're one step closer to District Twelve," I remind her. I make her take the plate of food. "Eat. It's still warm." She takes a bite of stew.

"It also means Cato will be back hunting us," Katniss points out.

"And he's got supplies again."

"He'll be wounded, I bet." Katniss says.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because Thresh would never have gone down without a fight. He's so strong. I mean, he was. And they were in his territory."

"Good," I decide. "The more wounded Cato is the better. I wonder how Foxface is making out."

"Oh, she's fine. Probably be easier to catch Cato than her."

"Maybe they'll catch each other and we can just go home," I say wistfully. "But we better be extra careful about the watched. I dozed off a few times."

"Me, too. But not tonight."

I take first watch of the night and let Katniss get in the sleeping bag, notice her pull the hood over her face. I sit at her side and let her have her moment.


	28. Chapter 28

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_I'll probably be updating these quickly, because I just wrote ahead and got to the end and holy cow! I'm excited for y'all to read them!_

Chapter Twenty Eight

After a few hours I get hungry again. The basket of food is taunting me, almost begging me to just have something to eat. I manage to hold off for another hours before spreading some goat's cheese on half a roll. I slice up one of the apples and spread the slices atop the cheese, savouring every bite. I spread the other half of the roll and wake Katniss, holding it out to her as a peace offering.

"Don't be mad, I had to eat again. Here's your half."

"Oh, good." She replies, taking a large bite of the roll.

"We make a goat's cheese and apple tart at the bakery," I tell Katniss, explaining my inspiration for the small meal.

"Bet that's expensive."

"Too expensive for my family to eat," I admit. "Unless it's gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale." I tell her, before pulling the sleeping bag up around me. It isn't long before I fall asleep.

Someone is shaking my shoulder, pulling me from the blissful dreams. I open my eyes drowsily, feeling well rested. Katniss is looking down at me and I pull her down to me, our lips instantly finding one another. It's a long and drawn out kiss, and quite frankly I would be perfectly content if this were my wake up call every day. Finally Katniss pulls away, which is disappointing but I glance up at her with a lazy smile.

"We're wasting hunting time."

"I wouldn't call it wasting," I answer instantly as I sit up, stretching out my lips. "So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?"

"Not us," Katniss says. "We stuff ourselves to give us staying power."

"Count me in." I shrug. Katniss divides the rest of our food into two piles, which is surprisingly. Surely we should hold some back, just in case? "All this?" I ask when she hands over a full plate.

"We'll earn it back today," she says confidently. I decide to trust he judgement and tuck into the meal, which is delicious even when it is cold. "I can feel Effie Trinket shuddering at my manners," Katniss says in amusement after using her finger to scrape up the last of her meal.

"Hey, Effie, watch this!" I shout out, throwing my fork over my shoulder. I lift the plate and lick it clean, which is highly satisfying. I then blow a kiss to one of the walls of the cave, knowing that the cameras will be picking it up. "We miss you, Effie!" Katniss bursts into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave." She says through her laughter. I snatch her hand from her mouth, pulling her body towards mine so that she's pressing against me.

"What do I care? I've got you to protect me now." I grin.

"Come on," Katniss sounds exasperated. I kiss her quickly, before she untangles herself from me and stands up. I sigh and get to my feet, helping Katniss to pack up our supplies. The mood shifts instantly when we step out of the cave. The cave was our small haven, where I could be myself with Katniss. My full self, feelings and all. But stepping out of the cave brings back the harsh reminder that we are in the Arena, and there are still two people who must die so that we can go home. I glance back at the cave in regret, wishing we could just wiggle back in and curl up in our sleeping bag. Wake up to a kiss and share a meal whilst talking about life in District Twelve. But there is hunting to be done.

Katniss hands me a knife, which I slide into my belt and we start walking away. Reality has finally come back to bite us in the rear.

"He'll be hunting us by now. Cato isn't one to wait for his prey to wander by."

"If he wounded-" Katniss begins, but I cut her off.

"It won't matter. If he can move, he's coming." Cato is a determined, angry guy. I have a feeling he'll especially be gunning for Katniss after Clove's death. I wonder if that was his main reasoning for hunting down Thresh, to avenge her death. There had certainly been some kind of connection between the two of them, something more than just Tributes thrown together. Clove had certainly doted on Cato, but I wonder how much of those feelings Cato had reciprocated.

We fill up our canteens at the overflowing stream.

"If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds." Katniss says, which I don't dispute. I have no idea how to even begin handling this hunting business, I will just be following Katniss' instructions.

"Your call. Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Keep an eye out. Stay on the rocks as much as possible; no sense in leaving him tracks to follow. And listen for both of us." Of course, her ear. She must not have recovered her hearing from the explosion. It's odd being on the move again, and I can tell that my leg is definitely not fully healed. I haven't paid much attention to it in the past couple of days, and most certainly haven't checked it. Whilst sitting in the cave the wound hasn't been giving me much grief, but now that I'm walking again there's the slight twinge in the wound. I ignore it and carry on walking behind Katniss, following her through the forest. After a while she suddenly turns and looks at me.

"What?" I ask.

"You've got to move more quietly. Forget about Cato, you;re chasing off every rabbit in a fifteen kilometre radius."

"Really?" I thought I _was_ being quiet. "Sorry, I didn't know." So we set off again and I take more care to make my steps even more quiet, almost silent even. Yet Katniss seems jumpy.

"Can you take your boots off?" She asks and I look around us.

"Here?" I ask in disbelief, because we're in the middle of the woods. Not exactly the place you go barefoot.

"Yes. I will, too. That way we'll both be quieter." Katniss replies, and it seems as if she's making an effort to be patient with me. All that easiness of the cave has definitely disappeared. So we both take off our boots and socks, walking barefoot through the trees. The path is rough, with branches strewn everywhere for me to step on. I do my best to ignore the pain in the bottom of my feet, keeping on track. Keeping my mind focused on our surroundings, making sure there are no unusual sounds that could be Cato closing in on us. But he doesn't, it seems the only sound is that of me. I watch the way that Katniss walks, making no noise and try to copy her in my movements. It's no use, especially with the pain jolting through my leg

We spend hours trailing through the forest, trying to reach a camp that Katniss had made with Rue. In all of those hours, there's nothing for Katniss to shoot and catch. I'm certain I know the reason why. I _had _warned Katniss that I would be useless at hunting, but I just didn't realise how useless. I don't understand how Katniss can move so silently. We finally stop to rest, and I gulp down a few mouthfuls of water, trying to figure out how we can possibly get any game. The answer is obvious, really. Katniss needs to go off in her silence to hunt, because having me along will get us nowhere.

"Katniss," I get her attention. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game."

"Only because your leg's hurt," She's being polite, of course. My hurt leg does make it worse, but most of the problem is that I'm still useless and unable to walk silently like Katniss herself. I'm too heavy footed for hunting.

"I know," I say. "So why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful."

"Not if Cato comes and kills you," she says, which makes me think she has not faith in me at all. I laugh it off, which seems to surprise Katniss.

"Look, I can handle Cato. I fought him before, didn't I?" She stares at me a moment and I'm sure I know what she's thinking. That my fight with Cato had ended with my dying in the mud, and Katniss having to save me. She doesn't say it, though.

"What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I hunted?" She asks. Oh, lookout work. She tries to make it sound like important work, but we both know it's a method of keeping me out of the way.

"What if you show me what's edible around here and go get us some meat?" I mimic her tone. "Just don't go far, in case you need help." Katniss sighs heavily, finally giving in. She shows me some of the roots to dig up that we can eat and then teaches me a short two note whistle, to communicate with one another that we're both all right. Whistling is something I'm a lot better at, and Katniss leaves me to get us some meat.

I set out and begin gathering some edible foods for us to eat along with whatever Katniss amnaged to hunt down. Near the stream I come across a bush of berries and pause, trying to think back to our training of edible foods we might come across. I also try to remember the berries that Katniss had gathered and made into a mush. These berries... were they the colour of the edible berries? Or were the edible ones a little lighter in colour? Still whistling regularly to Katniss, I return to the pack and set the berries down on plastic sheeting, in the light of the sun. Eyeing up the provisions, I decide it's still not enough. I've no idea how much Katniss is going to bring back, so I need to make sure I provide plenty as well.

I make my way through the brush and return to the berries. I pick off a handful of berries and carry them carefully, making my way back to the pack. I duck under the branches of a tree and wade through the bushes that lead to the small clearing. I glance up and jump out of my skin, eyes following the arrow the sticks into a tree to my right. I stare back at Katniss in shock.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be here, not running around in the woods!" She snaps at me.

"I found some berries down by the stream," I say, frowning in confusion. It hadn't been long since we'd last seen one another, I'd only gone a little ways.

"I whistled. Why didn't you whistle back?"

"I didn't hear. The water's too loud, I guess." I cross over to where Katniss is standing, placing my hands firmly on her trembling shoulders.

"I thought Cato killed you!" Her voice is rising, close to shouting.

"No, I'm fine." I wrap my arms around her, pulling her body to mine but she stands stiff and silent. "Katniss?" She pushes me away, still frowning.

"If two people agree on a signal, they stay in range. Because if one of them doesn't answer, they're in trouble, all right?"

"All right!"

"All right. Because that's what happened with Rue, and I watched her die!" She shouts, turning from me and going to herself a bottle of water. I sigh, suddenly feeling very lousy. Watching her back, but not daring to make a move to comfort her.

"And you ate without me!" She shouts, which confuses me. I hadn't touched our food provisions, I'd been too busy collecting more.

"What? No I didn't."

"Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese."

"I don't know what ate the cheese," I say slowly, trying to hold back on my irritation. It would be no good us both getting angry. "but it wasn't me. I've been down by the stream collecting berries. Would you care for some?" Offer her some berries, make the peace. Hopefully. Katniss doesn't say anything, she just examines the berries that I had collected. Picking one up, she rolls it between her fingers. A canon fires suddenly, making me jump. Who? Cato or Foxface? I'm not sure which I would prefer.

We look up to the sky, where a hovercraft is lifting Foxface's body into the sky. It's easy to tell by her red hair. That can only mean that Cato is nearby, the hovercraft hadn't been far from us so he's certainly in range. One down and two to go, which means he'll begin hunting immediately.

"Climb. He'll be here in a second. We'll stand a better chance fighting him from above." Katniss doesn't climb, instead she makes me stops and looks at me calmly.

"No, Peeta, she's your kill, not Cato's."

"What?" I'm confused. Does she think I snook off to kill Foxface whilst she was hunting? "I haven't even seen her since the first day. How could I have killed her?" Rather than say anything, she extends her arm and opens her palm, holding the berries out to me. I stare at them uncomprehendingly.

"Before I blew up the Career's supplies, Foxface ran in and took some of their food. She knew where to go so as not to step on the mines the boy from District 3 set up. From what I can tell, she hides and watches everyone else, and when they're not paying attention or leave their provisions, she runs in and takes enough that they might not notice." Katniss begins explaining to me. "She probably found us and waited until you left the pack with the berries. She wouldn't have questioned these berries when it looked as if we planned to eat them ourselves. She must ave stopped over there to eat" I allow the information to sink in. So Cato didn't kill Foxface, it was my own fault. I guess the edible berries are a different colour after all.

"I wonder how she found us."I ponder out loud, but it's not really that hard to figure out. "My fault, I guess, if I'm as loud as you say."

"And she's very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her." That makes it sound as if I had done so on purpose. All I'd done was collect some berries to eat later, but apparently I'm also useless at that and we wuld be dead ourselves.

"Not on purpose. Doesn't seem fair somehow. I mean, we would have both been dead, too, if she hadn't eaten the berries first." I pause, then remember the way Katniss had examined the berries. "No, of course, we wouldn't. You recognised them, didn't you?" She nods in response.

"We call them nightlock."


	29. Chapter 29

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_So, in celebration of just getting the second trailer for Hunger Games, here's a second chapter for today!_

Chapter Twenty Nine

_Nightlock._

"Even the name sounds deadly," I comment. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I really thought they were the same ones you'd gathered."

"Don't apologise. It means we're just one step closer to home, right?" She asks. I don't answer, because I still can't get the idea out my head that it's my fault a girl is dead. Of course, I'd seen the others kill and allowed it to happen, but this was of my own doing. Worse, it was because of my mistake.

"I'll get rid of the rest." I say, gathering the berries in the blue sheet of plastic. Just as I'm about to toss them away into the bushes, Katniss calls for me to stop.

"Wait!" She comes over with an open leather pouch, filling it with a few handfuls of berries. "If they fooled Foxface, maybe they can fool Cato as well. If he's chasing us or something, we can act like we accidentally drop the pouch and if he eats them-"

"Then hello, District Twelve," I interrupt.

"That's it." The pouch secures to her belt and I toss the rest away. I wonder where Cato is, and realise that he could have also seen the hovercraft. He probably thinks that we killed Foxface purposefully, and will most likely be on his way.

"He'll know where we are now. If he was anywhere nearby and saw that hovercraft, he'll know we killed her and come after us."

"Let's make a fire. Right now." A fire? Has she gone mad? Does she want to start making a meal now? A fire will alert Cato to where we are.

"Are you ready to face him?"

"I'm ready to eat. Better to cook our food while we have the chance. If he knows we're here, he knows. But he also knows there's two of us and probably assumes we were hunting Foxface. That means you've recovered. And the fire means we're not hiding, we're inviting him here. Would you show up?" I realise she has a very good point.

"Maybe not," I say hesitantly. I then start on the fire, able to create a spark from the damp wood and blow it into some flames. Katniss sets the meat to roast and wraps the roots in leaves to bake them in the coals. Cato doesn't show, just like Katniss predicted. Once the food is roasted, Katniss packs up most of it to be eaten later and hands me a rabbit's leg, telling me we're to eat it whilst on the move.

Katniss suggests some trees, climbing into the branches and getting some sleep for the night. I hesitate, because tree climbing was never really an activity I took part in growing up.

"I can't climb like you, Katniss, especially with my leg, and I don't think I could ever fall asleep fifteen metres above the ground." Even though I'd been ignoring my leg since we set out, the wound had been aching most of the day. Especially after all of the walking for hours. I'd been able to ignore the sharp twinges here and there, but I'm not sure how well the wound is healing.

"It's not safe to stay in the open, Peeta."

"Can't we go back to the cave? It's near water and easy to defend." Not to mention it's the only place I'd felt safe since entering this damned arena. Katniss sighs. After a pause, she reaches up and kisses me gently and quickly.

"Sure. Let's go back to the cave." I relax in relief that I don't have to argue and fight her for it. It's also the first kiss I'd gotten most of the day.

"Well, that was easy."

After throwing more wood onto the fire to make the smoke last hours, we turn and head back towards the cave. The stream's water level has dropped since the storm stopped and we're able to walk through it. We wander downstream at a slow pace, both exhausted from the long walk of today yet Katniss always has her bow ready. It's a huge relief when we finally reach the slope that leads to our cave. We make our way up after filling our water bottles. Katniss starts to make us a meal but my head is already dropping, falling into a doze. Katniss shakes me awake and forces me into the sleeping bag. I fall asleep instantly, not realising how much the few hours hike had taken out of my energy.

When Katniss shakes me awake I feel rested but look out of the cave in surprise, because the sky is already lighting up with the beginning of the morning. "I slept the whole night," I say in surprise. "That's not fair, Katniss, you should have woken me." Katniss stretches out and gets down in the sleeping bag.

"I'll sleep now. Wake me if anything interesting happens."

I sit by Katniss' side, keeping my eyes on the entrance to the cave and my ears alert for any unusual sounds. Often I find myself playing with Katniss' hair, gently running it through my fingers. It isn't until mid afternoon when Katniss finally awakes, looking out at the sky through the entrance.

"Any sign of our friend?" She asks. I shake my head in response, but I'm not sure the lack of Cato is all that much to celebrate about.

"No, he's keeping a disturbingly low profile."

"How long do you think we'll have before the Gamemakers drive us together?"

"Well, Foxface died almost a day ago, so there's been plenty of time for the audience to play bets and get bored. I guess it could happen at any moment." I say, thinking that today is most likely the day. The day it all ends. It's an odd feeling, knowing that by the time night falls we could either be dead, or back in the Capitol.

"Yeah, I have a feeling today's the day," Katniss agrees with me. "I wonder how they'll do it." I don't answer, because there are many possibilities, and the Gamemakers can be very imaginative.

"Well, until they do, no sense in wasting a hunting day. But we should probably eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble." I nod in agreement and start packing up all our gear whilst Katniss prepares the food. Quite a team we make, I muse in silence. We finish up eating and set off; I can't help feeling that this will be the last time we will be seeing our little cave. I can't help feeling regretful, because those memories in the cave will be fond ones I will treasure to my grave. Whether that be tonight, or in years to come. Preferably the latter.

I look forward to reaching the stream, so that I can have a quick wash. I can feel the dirt all over my body, and lying in the mud for days hadn't helped at all. I think longingly of the showers back in the Capitol, and how much I would appreciate being in one at that moment. I stop short, noticing just after Katniss. The stream is now just a dry bed. There's no water left at all. Suddenly, my body seems to feel dirtier and I'm just itching for a wash. Katniss reaches down to feel the bed.

"Not even a little damp. They must have drained it while we slept." She says, looking concerned. I remember talking about the Gamemaker's forcing us together with Cato, and now they've drained the water. They probably want us to go to a particular water source, and there's only one I can think of.

"The lake. That's where they want us to go."

"Maybe the ponds still have some," Katniss says in hope.

"We can check," I say, not wanting to disappoint her. But I'm sure she already knows that we're not going to find anything. The Gamemaker's want us to be in a particular location, and they will go to all means to make sure it is so. We head off to the pond that Katniss remembers, but it is just like to stream. Nothing left.

"You're right. They're driving us to the lake." Katniss says, thinking hard. Most likely analysing the lake and its surroundings, whilst trying to come up with a plan of action. There isn't any cover at the lake, so there would be no opportunity to take Cato by surprise and gain an advantage. "Do you want us to go straight away or wait until the water's tapped out?" More sitting around and waiting for this all to be over. If we sit here and wait, we're going to lose any energy from our meal.

"Let's go now, while we've had food and rest. Let's just go end this thing." Katniss nods and gets to her feet. She doesn't make a move yet though, still lost in her thoughts. I take the few steps and wrap my arms around her.

"Two against one. Should be a piece of cake," I say, although I know it's not true. Cato is strong and angry.

"Next time we eat, it will be in the Capitol," Katniss answers, which causes a smile to creep across my lips.

"You bet it will." We don't move for quite the while, staying in our embrace before breaking without a word.

We stop for a rest by the tree where Katniss had sent down the Tracker Jacker's nest onto us. I stay stood, wrapping my arms around myself as I try to bar away the memories that are somewhat clouded. Katniss' dying scream echoes in my mind, but her voice brings me back.

"Let's move on," she says and I gladly agree.

We reach the lake at sometime around early evening, making sure to make a full circle around the Cornucopia to make sure Cato isn't hiding and waiting to ambush us. When all seems clear, we return to the lake and fill up our water bottles. I also have a quick wash of my hands and face, feeling better. Still not as good as the showers in the Capitol. Katniss frowns up at the sky, where the sun is sinking low. I tenderly rub my leg wound, because the pain is flaring up some. All this damned walking.

"We don't want to fight him after dark. There's only the one pair of glasses." I use the iodine carefully to make sure the water is safe to drink, thinking on the problem. It's quite possibly that Cato is waiting for it to get dark before attacking, making us more vulnerable. He'll have a pair of the night vision glasses himself for sure.

"Maybe that's what he's waiting for. What do you want to do? Go back to the cave?"I ask her.

"Either that of find a tree." Again with the damned trees. I'd just end up sitting there rigid, worried I'll be about to fall. "But let's give him another half an hour or so. Then we'll take cover."

We stay where we are, in plain sight at the side of the lake. Neither of us say anything, but Katniss begins to sing a few notes, and all the birds around us fall silent when she opens her mouth. It isn't long before all of the birds in the vicinity are singing back the notes to her. I can't help but smile.

"Just like your father," I say.

"That's Rue's song. I think they remember it." The birds continue in their melody. I watch Katniss' face subtly, noticing that she has her eyes closed whilst the birds sing. I'm about to reach out for her, stroke her cheek with my fingers but something is disturbing the birds' song. Instead, the birds start shrieking in a panic.

I jump to my feet, as does Katniss. I pull the knife out of my belt, readying myself for an attack and Katniss has her bow ready. We're both searching the trees for Cato and he comes crashing through, running straight towards us. He has no weapon, and I wonder if he plans to take us head on with his bare hands. Surely he hasn't lost all of his senses? Katniss fires an arrow and hits him head on in the chest but it falls straight off him.

"He's got some kind of body armour!" Katniss shouts to me just as he reaches us. I get ready to fight, but Cato barrels straight through us, not even slowing. Confusion. I stare after Cato, and notice the way he's panting and sweating hard, meaning he must have been running a long time. That seems less likely to be running towards us, but rather from something else. But what could he be so terrified of?

Katniss starts running, which confuses me even more. I turn back to see what might have frightened her, in time to see a second creature bound out between the trees. I turn and follow after Katniss and Cato, running as hard and fast as I can. I'm sluggish because of my leg, and fall metres behind them both. I daren't look back, knowing that the creatures are probably gaining on me. They could only be muttations, and they had looked like wolves – wolves with odd attributes. But wolves are fast, a lot faster than I am.

Katniss stops when she reaches the Cornucopia, glancing back at me. She sets her bow and sends off an arrow, I hear a pained screech behind me. Not too far behind me, either. I wave at Katniss to the cornucopia.

"Go, Katniss! Go!"


	30. Chapter 30

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_For those who were asking, I will be starting on Catching Fire, probably next week._

_No sure about Mockingjay yet, as that will be very challenging._

Chapter Thirty

Katniss climbs the Cornucopia and I keep on running, focusing my energy on forcing myself forward. I can hear the panting of the mutations behind me, but I'm closer to the Cornucopia. My heart is racing; I can't lose now after all this time. Certainly not to a mutt. I reach the tail of the Cornucopia but they're close, I cry out in shock when I see them closing in on me.

"Climb!" Katniss' voice breaks me from my shock and I begin to climb up the golden statue. The surface is hot from all of the sun, but I keep on going, finding all of the ridges to pull myself up. I'm nowhere near as fast as Katniss, and I almost fall when a sharp pain bursts in my leg. It's difficult climbing with the knife in my hand but I've no time to stop now to put it away. Not knowing that those _things_ are so close. I make it to Katniss' feet and she grabs my arm to hoist me up. I take a moment to catch my breath, looking up at Cato as he speaks.

"What?" Katniss asks.

"He said 'can they climb it?'" I tell her and she glances down to where they're gathered at the bottom of the Cornucopia. She doesn't say anything for a moment, but suddenly shrieks, alerting me to my feet. I grab her arms. "Katniss?" I ask.

"It's her!" She gasps, and I frown.

"Who?" She turns her head back and forth furiously, her eyes focused on the mutts. I shake her shoulder in order to get her attention. "What is it, Katniss?" I ask.

"It's them. It's all of them. The others, Rue and Foxface and … all of the other tributes." She finally manages to get out. I frown and turn my attention to the ground, where the mutts are gathered. I don't understand what she means at first, until one of them lifts their head and seems to look at me directly. I gasp, looking down into the eyes of Glimmer. But – how?

"What did they do to them? You don't think … that could be their real eyes?" I shudder at the thought. The mutts separate, with one group at each side of the Cornucopia. They begin leaping up on their hindquarters, and their jumps are so powerful. Suddenly, there's a horrible pain in my calf that makes me cry out, I look down at a large mutt that has its teeth clamped hard in my calf. It falls back to the ground but doesn't give in, the jaw clamping down harder. I start to fall, tightening my grip on Katniss' arm with one hand whilst I slam down the knife with my other hand.

"Kill it, Peeta! Kill it!" Katniss shouts out, and I bring the knife down again, hitting the mutt in the snout. It howls in pain and let's go, falling to the ground. Katniss pulls me up again and we make our way to the top, out of the reach of the mutts. Katniss begins another attack on them, and I press my hand over the bite on my leg, trying to stop the blood flow. Suddenly, an arm encloses around my throat and Cato is pulling me back, away from Katniss. I begin clawing at his strong arm, but am aware of the blood pouring out of my calf. Which is likely to kill me first? Cato is suddenly laughing, and I realise Katniss has set her bow upon him.

"Shoot me and he does down with me," Cato says. There's a long pause, where they both stand and stare at one another. I splutter for breath, wishing Cato would at least let up his grip a little. Air is becoming thin, and I know if he keeps it up I will be dead before long. Katniss knows she can't shoot Cato; otherwise he'll pull me over the side with him. She needs to get him to loosen his grip.

I raise my blood soaked hand, still gasping for air. Slowly, I draw a wobbly _X_ on Cato's arm with my blood. Communicating to Katniss that she needs to shoot his arm, shock him into letting me go. Katniss understands immediately and her arrow is embedding itself into Cato's arm before I have a chance to comprehend what she's doing. He releases me and the oxygen rushes into my lungs, I slam my back into him to make sure he goes over the edge. I feel myself falling backwards, and realise I'm probably going to meet the same fate as Cato. But Katniss manages to grab me, pulling me back to the safety of the Cornucopia. I hear Cato slam into the ground.

I cough and splutter a little, my throat still hurting from Cato's grip, but I hold tightly to Katniss. We wait, for the mutts to finally finish with Cato, for the canon, to be taken home. Holding on to Katniss, I try to ignore the sounds on the ground. The growling and snarls of the mutts as they tear into Cato, but I remember it won't be an easy task for them with Cato's body armor protecting him.

It seems to go on and on, listening to the terrible sounds of mutts trying to tear Cato apart, of Cato obviously fighting back with some kind of weapon. After such a long time it sounds like Cato is overpowered, because they're dragging him across the ground. Even when the anthem plays there is still no canon, meaning he's still alive down there. But how long can he survive?

My leg is still bleeding rather badly, but we left all of our supplies by the lake when we started running. It makes me wonder how long _I_ can last, losing so much blood each hour. I try to stay sitting, ignoring the cold that is seeping through my clothes. I don't even notice Katniss unzipping her jacket.

"Here, lie down. I need to check your leg." Katniss sighs, gently pushing me back. I do as she says. I grit my teeth against the pain of my leg, as Katniss creates a makeshift tourniquet. I close my eyes, thinking how nice sleep would be.

"Don't go to sleep," Katniss interrupts my peace. I open my eyes and look up to where she is leaning over me. She's shivering.

"Are you cold?" I ask, unzipping my jacket. Katniss presses herself against me so that I can zip it up again, which is a little warmer.

"Cato may win this thing yet," Katniss whispers to me.

"Don't you believe it," I say, pulling her hood over her head to conserve some more heat. I ignore the shivers that convulse through my body. We stay silent for a long time, the only sounds that of Cato moaning and whimpering as he slowly, slowly dies.

"Why don't they just kill him?" Katniss asks, but the answer is obvious. For entertainment.

"You know why," I say quietly.

As the night draws on, tiredness seeps into my mind and I begin to doze off. But each time I begin the fall into a slumber, Katniss is there to wake me. I use all of my willpower to push away the thoughts of sleep, forcing myself to stay awake. I can't leave Katniss alone, not in this arena with those terrible noises. I keep my eyes on the sky, pointing out to Katniss the shift in the moon. Commenting on how it means so much time has been passing. The hours are slowly trickling by. We fall into silence again for such a long time, and I keep myself focused on the sky, on Katniss' warmth against my body. I have to stay awake.

Tendrils of light make their way across the sky and I blink in surprise, looking across to make sure. Yes, there's the top of the sun.

"The sun's beginning to rise," I whisper to Katniss. My leg is throbbing in pain, just like it had before. But this time, I have Katniss with me. I'm not alone in the mud. Katniss presses her ear against the surface of the Cornucopia, and I listen closely. He's still whimpering, still alive. It's such a horrible, agonizing sound.

"I think he's closer now. Katniss, can you shoot him?" I ask, just wanting to end his suffering.

"My last arrow's in your tourniquet," Katniss says. This means my leg will start bleeding badly again, but it can't be helped. If she does this, then it will be over. And the Capitol can fix my leg.

"Make it count," I say as I unzip my jacket, letting her loose. I close my hands in tight fists to hold back the pain as Katniss unwraps my leg, tying her jacket around it again. She makes her way to the lip of the Cornucopia and I automatically reach out to grip her tightly, making sure she doesn't fall. I wait in silence until I hear her arrow leave, pulling her away from the edge and back to safety.

"Did you get him?" I whisper. She doesn't answer, because the canon fire answers for her.

"Hurray for us," Katniss says, without any joy.

_Finally,_ I think to myself. It's over, finally. The mutts disappear, which is a massive relief. They're entirely unnerving. We wait, expecting the hovercraft to arrive and take the remnants of Cato's body. Nothing. It should have ended by now, so why are we still here?

"Hey!" Katniss shouts. "What's going on?" No answer, just the usual sounds of the arena and its wildlife.

"Maybe it's the body. Maybe we have to move away from it." I say, not entirely sure myself. That's what you have to do with the other kills, but what about the final kill? I can't remember, there's too much pain in my leg for me to think straight.

"Okay. Think you could make it to the lake?" She asks.

"Think I better try," I answer. Because I know it's nearly over with. Just me and Katniss left, which means we both get to go home. Just need to make it that small way, and our supplies are over there. We slowly make our way down the tail of the Cornucopia inch by inch. It's agonizing pain, and my leg certainly doesn't agree with all the movement. I grit my teeth against the pain and carry on, forcing each limb to move forward. I've done this before, I can do it again. Step by step, by step, by step. It continues on until we finally reach the lake and I can slump to the ground again. Katniss lifts a hand of water up to my lips and I sup it gratefully. There's the mockingjay's whistle to warn us of the hovercraft and I sigh in relief. Finally.

I wait for them to announce the end, but it doesn't come.

"What are they waiting for?" I ask, knowing my voice is weak. My leg feels wet and warm with more blood.

"I don't know," Katniss answers. She gets up and walks a little way from me, and I keep my gaze on her. Claudius Templesmith's voice fills the arena.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."


	31. Chapter 31

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_Three more Chapters to go guys, I'll get started on the next soon - I promise._

Chapter Thirty One

It takes me a moment to understand what he's saying. When I do, my eyes snap to Katniss and she's staring back at me in disbelief. Only one of us can live, it was all just another part of the Game, making us think we were both going to survive. Again, I'm hit with the possibility of returning to District Twelve without Katniss. I can't do it, I won't. It's unbearable, the idea of living on knowing that Katniss is dead.

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," I point out gently. Slowly, I lift myself to my feet. It takes so much longer, because putting any pressure on my left leg is excruciating. Slowly, hesitantly, I hobble towards Katniss and the lake with my knife in hand. Just as I'm dropping the knife in the lake, Katniss has her bow loaded and pointed at my chest. I raise my eyebrows at her, the knife splashing in the water. She drops the bow and takes a step back, the blood rushing to her face.

"No. Do it." I make myself move forward, picking the weapons up and thrusting them into her hands.

"I can't. I won't." She replies, which causes a slight ache in my heart. Perhaps it is here at the end, that she finally believes my feelings. Or is it more of her not wanting to owe me anymore?

"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," I tell her, thinking of those horrible whimpers. Of how many hours it had lasted.

"Then you shoot me," She says angrily, shoving the weapons back into my hands. But surely she knows that impossible, that could never happen. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!"

"You know I can't," I drop the weapons to the ground, as it seems neither of us can carry out the deed. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." I say defiantly, ripping the bandage from my leg and allowing the wound to bleed freely.

"No, you can't kill yourself," she says, falling to her knees. She's trying to stick the bandage back to my wound, to stop the flow of blood. The sight of it almost brings tears to my eyes.

"Katniss. It's what I want." I try to reason with her, let her know that it's okay.

"You're not leaving me here alone." I take her hands and pull her up to her feet, wanting to hold her close, wanting all of this to be over. We had believed it, we had believed that we could both return home happily.

"Listen. We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me." I say. "I can't do it Katniss, I can't go back to Disctrict Twelve. I – I love you too much. It would be no life back there without you, and going on knowing that you're – that you're dead-" I almost can't get the words out. The thoughts alone are almost too much to bear. Suddenly Katniss is reaching for the pouch, fingers fumbling with the opening. The berries that had killed Foxface. I close my hands over her wrist. "No, I won't let you."

"Trust me," she whispers and I pause, staring into those gray eyes. Trust her. I let go of her wrist, and she pours some berries into the palm of my hand. She then pours some onto her own.

"On the count of three?" I understand what she means to do, I think. _They have to have a victor_. I lean down and kiss her gently, savoring the taste of her lips, just in case it goes wrong.

"The count of three," I agree. We both stand with our backs pressed, my empty hand holding hers tightly.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," I say, to make sure the Gamemaker's know what is happening. I spread my palm, holding the berries out in the light, in plain sight of the cameras. Katniss squeezes my hand and we begin to count in unison.

"One." Any moment now. "Two." Why aren't they doing anything? Are they really going to go without a victor this year? We can't exactly back out of the plan now. "Three." I lift my hand and just as the first berry hits my tongue, I'm interrupted by the trumpets.

"Stop! Stop!" Claudius Templesmith again, sounding frantic. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you – the tributes of District Twelve!" _It's about time,_ I think as I drop the berries, spewing out the one in my mouth. I wipe my tongue frantically and pull Katniss down to the lake where we both wash out our mouths. We then collapse in the other's arms.

"You didn't swallow any?" She asks. I shake my head in response, although it had been close.

"You?"

"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did," she says.

"Yeah, I guess so." My voice is drowned out by the roaring of the Crowd, playing over the speakers.

A hovercraft appears above us and drops two ladders. I'm aware of Katniss' arm around me as she helps me up and I cling onto her as we both step onto the ladders. We're frozen in place and I'm glad, because the pain in my leg is becoming unbearable. Although my body is frozen, I'm certain that my wound is still pumping out blood. I fall into a world of darkness. I wake a few moments later, enough time to see Katniss pounding her fists on a glass window, her mouth moving in the shape of my name. I think the doctor injects me with a sedative, because the darkness clouds over my mind again.


	32. Chapter 32

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_I'm sorry the last chapter was so short guys, but I didn't want to fit it all in one chapter! Two chapters to goo. As a treat, I might do a one shot of Peeta in between the Games._

_Also I'm posting this early because I love you. _

Chapter Thirty Two

I don't want to open my eyes. Because then I will know it was just a dream, and I'm still in the arena. I remember Claudius Templesmith's booming voice, telling us that only one can survive. That _had_ happened, hadn't it? Then what? I frown, with my eyes still closed because the memories are hazy. I think of Katniss' face, of the leather pouch. Had she killed herself? No... the berries. We had both taken some. The memories rush back to me, causing me to snap my eyes open and try to sit up. But there's a restraining band across my chest that prevents me from doing so. I try again and again, but to no avail. The thrashing around makes me slightly dizzy and I have to stop, allowing the sensation to pass.

There's a soft yellow glow from the light on the ceiling and I'm in a plain room with only my bed. There are wires in my arm the lead to the ceiling behind me, and I can't see any doors or windows. The antiseptic smell in the room alerts me that I'm in some kind of medical room, it takes me another moment to realise I'm naked. I raise my hands and notice they are clean, so clean. So they must have given me a full clean over. I want to shout out and alert someone that I'm awake, that I'm here. A panel opens on the wall behind me and an Avox boy walks in, carrying a tray of food. It looks like he's about to place it on my legs and pauses, glancing subtly at me. What's wrong with him.

"Is Katniss okay?" I whisper to him, and after a pause the boy nods his head. He presses a button and the bed rises so that I'm in a sitting position. I try to stretch out my legs and am about to say he can put the food down, when I notice it. There's no feeling in my left leg. I look down in alarm, and notice that there isn't the outline of my left leg under the sheet that covers me. _What's going on?_ I reach down and rip the sheet away, the breath catches in my throat. There is no leg past my knee. It's been surgically removed. I remember the mutt clinging to my calf. Had the wound really been that bad?

"My – my leg," I manage to choke out in an almost sob. It's gone. Just.. gone. "Why is it gone? What happened?" I look to the Avox boy, who looks back at me with alarmed eyes. It slips my mind that he cannot speak. "What happened?" my hysteria is rising. I barely feel the cold liquid that they shoot through my veins, losing myself in the world of unconsciousness.

I wake again, but I've no idea how much time has passed. The same walls, the same soft yellow glow, the same bed, the same lack of leg. I am still being restrained on the bed, so can't quite reach my leg to examine it further. I try to lift it in the air, and it still responds by rising. But it's not my full leg. The panel opens again, almost silent. I turn and ready the apology on my lips for the Avox boy, but it is Portia smiling down at my sympathetically.

"Portia," I breathe, overcome with shock and something else – happiness? It's so good to see her.

"Oh, Peeta!" She cries, sweeping across the room to awkwardly embrace me. There are tears in her eyes.

"Portia, are you okay?" I ask in concern.

"Me? I'm fine! But you, oh you poor boy! They sent me in as they thought it would calm you down a bit. They asked me to – to explain," her eyes move down my body, to the absence of my left leg. "They had to amputate, Peeta. It was either you lose your leg, or you lose your life." She sobs out the word life, covering her mouth with her hand. I reach out and take her free hand, holding it tightly.

"Hey, stop crying. It's okay, at least I'm alive. And Katniss is too, right?" She nods her head, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Yes, yes. Katniss is alive. They're just patching her up."

"Can I see her?" I ask hopefully, but think I already know the answer.

"Not just yet. They want to televise your reunion. Also in a few days, they're going to be bringing in your new leg." I snap my gaze to her in surprise.

"New leg?"

"Well, of course. They're going to be giving you a fake leg, so that you can walk again." I sit back against the bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of this new leg I will be receiving. Will I even be able to walk on it properly? Surely a fake leg will be hard to manoeuvre on? "I have to go now, but I'll see you soon." And with that, she disappears again through the wall. Not long after Portia disappears the Avox boy returns again with another plate of food. He avoids my gaze and puts the tray down where my leg would be and lifts the bed, hesitantly holding a spoon out for me.

"I'm sorry, for my outburst." I mutter quietly, and there's the slight flicker of a smile on his lips. He presses the spoon into my hand, and leaves the room. I look down at the food and notice the rumble in my stomach. It's a bowl of some kind of broth and an apple, not exactly much. But I find that even this amount is difficult to keep down. It makes me think that I've been in this room for a few days now, since I had eaten a lot the last day in the arena.

When I'm finished the cold sensation sweeps into my veins from one of the tubes, the darkness closing in again. This happens a few times; I wake, I eat, they send me to sleep. Until one day I wake with no wires or restraint, and two men I don't know walk in with a small table on wheels. On the table lays a contraption of metal and wire. My new leg. Also what looks like a cane.

"Hello, Peeta!" Says one of them brightly. "We're here to fit on your new leg, then you'll be heading off to meet your crew." He says, walking over and holding his hand out to me. "I just need you to sit up for me and move over to the edge of the bed." Using his hand as leverage, I pull myself up into a sitting position. It would seem I've lost the majority of my upper body strength in the arena. I use my right leg to propel myself and shuffle to the edge, planting it firmly on the ground whilst the other just hangs there. I glare down at the flesh that ends in a neat stump. That's when I notice that the rest of my skin is entirely unblemished. There isn't even a scar from Cato's sword, or the burn on my wrist from when I got too close to the oven as a child.

The doctor goes about fitting my new leg and it seems to have been moulded to fit perfectly because he doesn't need to do any adjustments, just straps it right on. He passes me my trousers, which are the same design that we had worn in the arena. I don't like the sight of them, but I can hardly practice on my new leg naked. The doctor then hands me the metal cane. I stare at it for a moment, my mind still in a whirl. My leg is really gone, this isn't a dream.

"This cane is to help you keep upright. It's going to feel very odd and may take you some time to get used to it properly, so I'm going to help you move around a bit." Planting the cane firmly on the ground and clinging to the top I slowly stand up, putting all of my weight onto my right leg. I try stretching my left leg, pulling it back and forth. Once I get used to how it works, I distribute my weight onto both legs, surprised when it actually holds me up. The other doctor has already disappeared, wheeling out the empty table, the panel sliding closed behind him.

The doctor stays with me and we must spend hours just practising walking around my plain room, there are times when the leg doesn't respond to me but after some time I get the hang of it. The doctor leaves me on my own, telling me that I'll be released soon and disappears behind the panel. I pull on the shirt left out for me and carry on walking around. I'm still unsteady on the new leg, but at least it holds me up. It feels strange, so very strange. Almost like an intrusion. I wonder what Katnis is doing, if they had kept her in a room similar to mine.

I almost don't hear the panel slide open again because I'm too busy walking carefully in the opposite direction. The small click alerts me though and I turn quickly, too quickly for my new leg to keep up. I have to grab onto the bed to stop myself falling over, almost dropping the cane across the room. Once I have righted myself, I limp awkwardly out of the room into a large hall with no other doors. Or are there more secret panels that I can't make out? Is Katniss behind one of them? I start walking down the hall uncertainly, until I spot Portia waiting for me in a large chamber. I quicken my pace but am still slow, finally reaching her and embracing Portia in a tight hug. There's the click clack of heels on hard floor and I turn, just in time to see Effie walk in to the room with a large smile on her face.

"Peeta! Oh, and you're walking! They told me that they had to amputate your leg?" I nod and lift the trouser of my left leg. Both Portia and Effie gasp, looking down at the contraption with wide eyes.

"It's taking some getting used to, but at least I'm able to walk."

"Oh, brave. So brave!" Effie cries as she engulfs me in an embrace. I awkwardly hug her, patting her back.

"Where's Katniss?" I ask, looking around in the hopes of seeing her stride into the room.

"They want to show your reunion live, remember?" Portia pats my shoulder and I nod, remembering her telling me.

"Oh, of course. When will that be?" Portia laughs gently.

"Soon, very soon. We just need to go and get you ready then you'll be up on the stage with her in no time." I nod enthusiastically, because I'm itching to just see her. To know she's all right. Of course, everyone has already told me so but I just need to see it with my own eyes before I believe it. Before it hits that we both made it.

"I just left Katniss, she's getting ready with Cinna. I thought I'd come and see how you were doing before you went on up." Effie says brightly.

"Thank you Effie, that's kind." I tell her, but Portia is already leading me away to get me dressed for the stage. We make our way up to the twelfth floor, where my stylist team are waiting with bright smiles and fast chatter. I'm not certain what they talk about, something to do with watching me on the screen. It goes on and on whilst we sit in the dining room, met with a full meal of roast beef, peas and bread rolls. Portia tells me that they're still feeding me small portions because they don't want me throwing up on the stage. Understandable. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle too much of the Capitol's rich food after the arena, anyway. I wonder where Katniss is, if she has already eaten. Just as we're about to leave for my room, Cinna strides into the room and crosses to where I am.

"Cinna," I smile and he returns it.

"Peeta, how are you doing?" he asks politely, subtly glancing at the cane in my hand, but my mind is filled with a bombardment of questions. Has he seen Katniss yet? Is she all right? Has she been asking after me? Cinna seems to know what I'm thinking, because his face softens and pats me on the shoulder. "She's okay Peeta, truly. You'll see for yourself soon enough." I smile and nod, because if Cinna says it is so then it definitely must be. Cinna adores Katniss, and would tell me if something were wrong.

We return to my room and the team set about making me suitable for the stage. I assure them that I can use the shower myself but they are probably thinking of my interview with Ceaser before the games. When had that been? It seems a lifetime ago. We have to unstrap my new leg and I hop awkwardly into the shower with their help. But once in the shower and under the hot jet of water I allow myself to breathe deeply, because it is over now. Just a couple of interviews to get through and we can go home. _Home,_ I think with a laugh. A place I hadn't dared to think of seeing again.

Once finished with the shower, the team have to help me out again and strap my metal leg back on. Then they go about making me suitable for the stage. I speak to them only when they ask me questions, pretending to listen to them politely. Portia comes in with my outfit, dressing me in a shimmering yellow shirt, plain black trousers and large black boots. Once dressed, Portia steps back and looks me over once before smiling, taking my hand and squeezing it gently.

"I'm so proud of you, Peeta." She whispers, and I'm worried she's going to cry again. I'm not sure what to say to her.

"Thanks, Portia." I try weakly.

We take the elevator to the level of the training centre, and make our way to the makeshift area under the stage. Of course it has all had to be changed because this year there are two victors, so they've built a wall and created a second metal plate. Is Katniss standing on the other side of the wall? I want to slam my fists on it and call out for her, but turn myself away to stand on the metal plate. The others have already left to take their positions, leaving me alone.


	33. Chapter 33

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_You guys really do inspire me to keep writing, so thank you so much. _

Chapter Thirty Three

I can hear the crowd cheering and roaring high above me, I start drumming my fingers on top of the cane as I wait for the metal plate to rise and lift me to the stage. The anthem starts playing with a loud boom, and Claudius Templesmith's voice joins it, greeting the audience. Applause breaks out as the Prep teams are introduced and after them comes Effie. I imagine the large grin on her face as she finally gets her moment. Today is a day that Effie has been waiting for. Portia and Cinna get a large cheer, which isn't surprising considering the outfits they have prepared throughout all of this. And then Haymitch gets an even bigger cheer, I think the audience are even stamping their feet. Then the plate is rising.

As I rise, the roar of the crowd becomes deafening and I have to squint against the blinding lights of the stage and cameras. And finally, finally there she is. Just a few metres from me and I can see that she is well, nobody has lied to me. The tension instantly melts from my body and my muscles relax. Just seeing her causes a smile to find its way onto my face. She takes the few steps to close the space between us and throws herself into my arms. I stumble back and have to plant the cane and my new leg down firmly to stop us both going down. I manage to right myself and hold Katniss in the same desperate manner I'm sure she's holding me. I kiss her fully and hard, and then plant smaller kisses on her lips. I kiss her again fully, and the kiss lasts so long that someone taps on my shoulder. I think it's Ceasar but I don't care, because Katniss is here and she's safe, and it's over. I push him aside, not even bothering to look at him. My gaze locked on Katniss. I stroke her face, like I had done before to make sure she is really here with me.

Haymitch finally shoves us forward towards the Victor's chair, which is actually a small sofa. We sit down on the sofa and I plant my feet on the ground. I can feel Katniss so close to my side, but she seems to change her mind and brings her feet up beneath her, curling into my side. I wrap my arm around her without even thinking about it, pulling her in close to me. Katniss encloses my other hand with both of hers.

Ceasar starts off the show, joking with the audience and then they are playing the highlights of the Games. For what I think to be the first time, the Capitol show the highlights as a love story. I watch the screen as I'm expected to, watch as each tributes dies again in front of us. I can't help feeling sorry for them all, a little sad that they didn't make it. But if they had made it, I wouldn't be here now with my arm around Katniss. Once in the arena, the first main focus is on me, when I had been with the Careers. They show me in the mud, whispering Katniss' name whilst I had been asleep, something which I hadn't been aware of. It's shows Rue's death, and Katniss singing to her. I have to bite down on my lower lip as we listen to Katniss singing, with such pain her tone. My fingers close a little tighter around Katniss' shoulder. After that is the announcement that two from the same District can live, and Katniss appears in a tree, shouting my name. Then clasping her hand over her mouth. My eyebrows shoot up in shock at this, but it also pleases me somewhat. So I had been in her thoughts after all.

At the end they show Katniss screaming my name and banging her hands on the glass window, where I'm laid on a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors. The anthem plays and President Snow is coming towards us. Katniss and I both stand as he approaches us, noticing that he has only one crown in his hands. Does he plan to crown only one of us? Instead he surprises everyone and snaps the crown in two, placing half on my head and half on Katniss'.

After lots of bowing and waving and cheering, Ceasar bids the audience goodnight and we are swept away. The next stop is the President's mansion, where they have held a banquet for us. Instead of eating, Katniss and I are made to pose for countless photos. I'm pleased that throughout all of this, Katniss doesn't break her hold of my hand and I grasp hers back. The night passes by in a blur of flashes and smiles, and small talk. The only thing holding me down is Katniss' fingers interlocked with mine.

I'm exhausted when we finally get to return to the twelfth floor of the Training Centre. I look around for Katniss, to speak to her properly, but Haymitch is waving me off with Portia.

"Peeta, you need to head off with Portia. Something for your Interview outfit." Haymitch says.

"But, I just want to-" I try to protest, but he stares me down.

"Go with Portia," he says calmly, although I think he's trying to hold down his irritation. I sigh and give in, because there's no way I'm going to be able to talk to Katniss tonight, unless I can stay awake long enough to sneak out of my room.

Portia leads me to my room, where there are a couple of shirts laid out on the bed. I frown, because Portia has already made a shirt that fits me. Neither of us do much talking whilst Portia is fitting the material around my torso, only speaking when asking me to lift my arms or this this way.

"Well, looks like we're all done here! You should get a good nights rest, and it'll be time to go home before you know it." Portia says with a gentle, rather sympathetic smile. Once she's left, I change out of the clothes and sit on the bed. Carefully, I un-attatch the fake leg and place it beside my bed, along side where my cane is leaning. I stare at them for a while, trying to sort my feelings into some kind of order. Part of me hates the new leg. A body part that I have to attach to myself every morning. Yet I know that my leg is gone, there's nothing I can do to change that. There's a lump in my throat. Sixteen years old and I've lost a leg. I collapse into the bed naked and fall asleep straight away.

I'm woken by Effie, with her usual trill of, "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" and it's like preparing for the Games all over again.

After attaching my leg, I hobble across the room with my cane. I mutter to the wall for soup and soft bread rolls, the meal appearing before me in seconds. I start eating but only get halfway through before my prep team arrive and put it aside, telling me I have to get ready. They carry on with their usual fast chatter that is common in the Capitol. I just allow them to preen my body, going off into my own thoughts until Portia finally arrives. She sends the Prep team away and gets out my outfit for the interview. She helps me to put on the white trousers, but the red shirt I can handle on my own, finishing the look off with boots similar to those I wore the day before.

"All right, are you ready?" Portia asks, her hands on my shoulders and her eyes locked on to mine. I breathe deeply and nod my head. Just this one Interview to get through and then we will be on the train to District Twelve.

This time the evening is down the hall in the sitting room, rather than on the stage in front of an audience. I limp out of the room and make my way down the hall, where Katniss is already waiting with Caesar. As soon as I see her, I take her aside from where everybody else is hovering.

"I hardly get to see you. Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart." I say.

"Yes, he's got very responsible lately." Katniss replies.

"Well, there's just this and we can go home." I remind her. "Then he can't watch us all the time." There's no time to carry on talking because everything is set up for the Interview, and they're calling us over. Katniss and I sit side by side on the couch that they brought in, which Caesar notices.

"Oh, go ahead and curl up next to him if you want. It looked very sweet." Katniss tucks in her feet and I pull her into me once again, comforted by her warmth at my side. The cameras start rolling and as usual, Caesar starts in with his joking and easy personality. As before, I find Caesar easy to get on with and find that he and I are doing most of the talking. There are times when Caesar gets Katniss to talk but each time she manages to steer the conversation in my direction. Soon enough, Caesar starts in on the topic that he knows the audience really want to hear about.

"Well, Peeta, we know, from our days in the cave, that it was love at first sight for you from what, age five?"

"From the moment I laid eyes on her," I reply.

"But, Katniss, what a ride for you. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you fall for him. When did you realise you were in love with him?" Caesar asks, and I turn my attention upon Katniss, because this isn't a question she can easily turn around back to me. Plus, I want to hear her answer.

"Oh, that's a hard one..." Katniss laughs faintly, looking down at her hands.

"Well, I know when it hit me. The night when you shouted out his name from that tree," Caesar cuts in, and I remember watching the scene on the screen. Of Katniss shouting my name and covering her mouth, looking shocked. As if she hadn't meant to do so.

"Yes, I guess that was it. I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about what my feelings might be, honestly, because it was so confusing and it only made things worse if I actually cared about him. But then, in the tree, everything changed." She says, and I know what she's talking about. That announcement, suddenly realising that maybe, just maybe we both might make it together. That I didn't have to lose her.

"Why do you think that was?" Caesar prompts her to carry on, knowing the audience are most likely riveted to their screens.

"Maybe … for the first time … there was a chance I could keep him." Caesar actually has to dab his eyes with a handkerchief after what she says. I lean down and press my forehead to her temple, holding her close.

"So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?" I ask her, more questions flashing through my head. What happens now? When we get back to District Twelve? Can we finally be together? Katniss turns towards me, and I find myself locked in those grey eyes for a brief moment.

"Put you somewhere you can't get hurt," she replies, and I can't help but kiss her.

Caesar starts talking about the injuries we did receive in the arena, and he finally gets to my new leg. He asks me how it's working out for me.

"New leg?" Katniss asks in shock, because I haven't had a chance to tell her yet, and it seems nobody else has talked to her about it. Katniss reaches down to pull up my trousers, revealing the metal leg strapped to my flesh. "Oh no," she whispers to herself.

"No one told you?" Caesar asks her, to which she shakes her head.

"I haven't had the chance," I shrug.

"It's my fault. Because I used that tourniquet." Katniss says, which causes me to roll my eyes. Always blaming herself.

"Yes, it's your fault I'm alive."

"He's right," Caesar cuts in. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it." Suddenly Katniss buries herself in my shirt and I rub her shoulder, Caesar and I trying to talk her into lifting her head again. Caesar focuses his questioning on me instead, so as not to upset Katniss again. But he has to involve her again when the berries come up.

"Katniss, I know you've had a shock, but I've got to ask. The moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind ... hm?" Katniss pauses for a long time, and I'm initially worried that she isn't going to answer. But she finally manages to choke out an answer.

"I don't know, I just … couldn't bear the thought of … being without him."  
>"Peeta? Anything to add?"<p>

"No. I think that goes for both of us." I say. Finally, the interview is over and everyone in the room start cheering, and hugging one another. I breathe a sigh of relief and get up off the couch. It's finally time to go home.


	34. Chapter 34

**The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View**

_The final chapter is here! I will start posting Catching Fire in a few days, so keep your eyes open guys! _

_Also, I will be taking requests for One Shots that you guys want! I will also be accepting ones that in other Point of Views, rather than just Peeta's. So if you want me to write up a scene for you, then just send me a message asking! _

Chapter Thirty Four

We have to say a quick goodbye to Portia and Cinna, and then we're on the train back to District Twelve. Effie and Haymitch are with us on the train, we all enjoy a meal before settling in front of the television to watch the Interview on replay. Katniss excuses herself to change.

As the train moves further away from the Capitol, I allow myself to relax and think of home. Think of my father, mother and two brothers in the bakery. The whole District will probably be preparing for our return, and I wonder what my family is doing. Are they rejoicing? I can't build a picture of my mother rejoicing, or even smiling. When Katniss returns, my arm instantly returns to her shoulder but she feels stiff and unresponsive. I brush the thought aside.

The train stops for fuel, and we're allowed to step outside and wander. Katniss and I hold hands whilst we walk along the track, but neither of us speaks. I don't mind, being in her presence is well enough for me. I stop briefly to gather some wild flowers, presenting them to Katniss in a bunch. Her face brightens a little and she takes them from my hands. It doesn't stay cheerful though, her expression drops and a slight frown creases in her brow.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," she answers instantly, but doesn't meet my eyes. We carry on walking past the train, and a little ways further. Haymitch suddenly appears behind us, his hand on Katniss' shoulder.

"Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay." Haymitch says which causes me to frown. Keep what up? Katniss watches him leave, whilst I stare at her face.

"What's he mean?" I ask, because she doesn't look confused like I am.

"It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," she says, which only makes me more confused.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"It seemed too rebellious. So Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn't make it worse."

"Coaching you? But not me."

"He knew you were smart enough to get it right." Katniss says.

"I didn't know there was anything to get right," I mutter. I think back to her behavior, how she had seemed too distant on the train, once we had left the Capitol. The way she looks now. "So, what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess … back in the arena … that was just some strategy you worked out." All those kisses, a basket suddenly appearing.

_I guess Haymitch finally got sick of watching us starve._

"No. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?"

"But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" She bites her lips and doesn't answer. "Katniss?" I drop her hand and she takes a step away from me. How naïve I had been, believing that she had really been falling for me. All those ideas of finally being together now we are heading home, it all falls around me. It's like shards of hopes for our future shattering in my mind. My stomach drops and it feels like a curtain is ripped away, making me see sense. So reality has finally come to bite me in the rear.

"It was all for the Games. How you acted." My voice is starting to break. All those kisses, I had been sure that they had been real. Part of me wanted to be back in the cave, where everything had seemed right. Where I had thought she might begin to love me.

"Not all of it," she says, still grasping onto those stupid flowers.

"Then how much?" I ask, but change my mind. "No, forget that. I guess the real question is, what's going to be left when we get home?"

"I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get." She says, and I wait for her to carry on explaining to me, but she stays quiet.

"Well, let me know when you work it out." I choke out, holding back the tears that threaten to spill. I don't let them out until I'm back in my room on the train, with the door locked tight. I bury my face in my pillow, and finally allow the feelings to wash over me. She hadn't fallen in love with me, then. Those berries back in the arena, which probably had nothing to do with wanting to keep me alive for her own sake, but rather for the District. To keep up appearances with the audience. That night I allow myself to cry.

For the rest of the journey I stay in my room, unable to face Katniss or the others. Too shamed and embarrassed. Haymitch obviously knows that Katniss had pretended to have all of those feelings, because he had been 'training' her. I wonder how someone trains a person to be in love, or pretend to be even. I think about going back home to my family with a fake leg and a broken heart. Of course, I won't have to work in the Bakery anymore because I will live in the Victor's Village with Haymitch and Katniss. I think I'll still help my father out occasionally, though. But without all the work at the bakery to do, I can spend more time on other things. Like painting. I had used icing as a form of creating something artistic, but now I would have the means to buy paints and canvases.

I can't help but spend the rest of the journey holed up in my room, staring at the ceiling as I run through all of my memories again. I had allowed myself to believe it was real; she had even managed to fool me as well as the Capitol. I had even started to think of my name being picked as fortunate because of the events that had unfolded between Katniss and me. Now I know it had all meant nothing to her. When I had been elated at our first real kiss, she had just been going through the motions. Holding her in the cave, she had probably just been glad of the warmth. I had been glad to have her there. Things had been much simpler before the Games, when I had just admired Katniss from afar. It would be harder from now on, knowing what it's like to kiss her, or hold her in my arms. I swipe harshly at the tears building up. No more crying, no more anger. Just nothing. That's the only way I'll make it through.

I finally emerge from my room when we reach District Twelve, after having a hot shower to prepare myself for the final televised event. Then there will be no cameras for a few months, until the Victory ceremonies. I make sure to drop the expressions from my face when I emerge, nodding briefly when I see Katniss. We both stand in a tense silence and watch our station rise before us.

I don't know what makes me do it, except I don't want it to all be over, not just yet. I extend my hand towards Katniss, who looks at me in uncertainty.

"One more time? For the audience?" I ask. all emotion drained from my voice. Katniss takes hold of my hand and our fingers interlock, holding on to one another tightly. We step out of the train together, where the cameras and people of District Twelve are already waiting for us.

**Thank you so much if you've stayed all the way through this! I've loved reading your reviews and waking up to new favourites etc! **

**Also for Catching Fire, I was thinking of the title "The View of a Victor Boy"? Let me know what you think. **


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